if 

iiftH 

f* 

BV  4253  .B3  1841   c.2 
Barnes,  Albert,  1798-1870. 
Practical  sermons  designed 
for  vacant  congregations 


PRACTICAL 


SERMONS: 


DESIGNED    FOR 


VACANT  CONGREGATIONS  AND  FAMILIES. 


^%W  OF  PRiHCB^^ 


V 


ALBERT    BARNES. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 
HENRY     PERKINS, 

134   CHESTNUT   STREET. 

1841. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1841,  by 

Albert  Barnes, 

in  the  Office  of  tlie  Clerk  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of 

Pennsylvania. 


STEKEOTVPED    I5Y    L.    JOHNSON. 
PRINTED     DY    T.    K.    &    P.    G.    UOLI.I.V.S,    PHILADELPHIA. 


PREFACE. 


The  title  of  tins  volume  sufficiently  indicates  its 
design.  It  is  published,  because  it  is  supposed  that 
there  is  a  want  of  such  sermons  constantly  occur- 
ring. There  are  numerous  congregations  in  this 
country,  which,  unhappily,  have  not  the  regular 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  in  which,  in  order 
to  maintain  public  worship,  it  is  necessary  to 
make  use  of  printed  sermons.  It  is  not  supposed 
that  these  are  better  sermons  than  have  before 
been  pubhshed  for  such  an  object,  but  that  there 
might  be  an  advantage  in  having  a  greater  variety; 
and  that  an  interest  might  exist  in  behalf  of  those 
recently  published  which  could  not  be  excited  for 
even  a  better  volume  that  has  been  frequently  pe- 
rused. There  are  not  a  few  families,  also,  it  is 
supposed,  which  would  be  interested  in  a  volume 
of  sermons,  and  in  which,  it  is  hoped,  good  might 
be  done  by  their  perusal. 


^  PREFACE. 

The  discourses  in  this  volume  are  wholly  prac- 
tical. They  were  intended  to  be  such  as  would 
be  adapted  to  impress  on  the  mind  the  importance 
and  necessity  of  personal  religion,  and  to  urge  the 
necessity  of  a  holy  life,  as  the  first  great  duty  of 
man.  There  are  no  sermons  in  the  volume  which 
professedly  discuss  the  doctrines  of  Christianity; 
and  no  sentiments  are  intended  to  be  advanced 
which  would  offend  evangelical  Christians  of  any 
denomination.  The  appeals,  illustrations,  and  argu- 
ments to  a  holy  life,  are  based  on  the  supposition 
of  the  truth  of  the  evangelical  doctrines;  but  it 
was  no  part  of  the  plan  to  discuss  those  doctrines, 
or  to  make  them  prominent.  I  may  be  permitted, 
perhaps,  to  say,  in  justice  to  myself,  that,  my  usual 
manner  of  preaching  to  my  own  congregation  is 
much  more  doctrinal  in  its  character  than  the  pe- 
rusal of  these  sermons  might  lead  a  reader  to  sup- 
pose. These  are  intentionally  selected  for  their 
practical  character. 

Albert  Barnes. 

Washington  Square,  Philadelphia, 
June  16th,  1841. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Sermon  I.     The  Freeness  of  the  Gospel 7 

Rev.  xxii.  17,  And  the  Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that 
heareth  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst,  come.  And  whosoever 
will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely. 

Sermon  II.     The  Love  of  God  in  the  Gift  of  a  Saviour  25 

John  iii.  16.  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life. 

Sermon  III.    Hl^y  will  ye  die? 41 

Ezek.  xxxiii.  11.  Say  unto  them.  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no 
pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked;  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his 
way  and  live  ;  turn  ye,  turn  ye  from  your  evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die  I 

Sermon  IV.      The  Beceit fulness  of  the  Heart 58 

Jer.  xvii.  9.    The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things. 

Sermon  V.     Indecision  in  Religion •  •  •  •  75 

1  Kings  xviii.  21.  And  Elijah  came  unto  all  the  people  and  said,  IIow  long 
halt  ye  between  two  opinions  1  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  him :  but 
if  Baal,  then  follow  him. 

Sermon  VI.     The  Reasons  why  Men  are  not  Christians-  89 

Luke  -xiv.  18.     I  pray  thee  have  me  excused. 

Sermon  VII.      The  Misery  of  forsaking  God  103 

Jer.  ii.  13.  My  people  have  committed  two  evils;— they  have  forsaken  me, 
the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  hewed  them  out  cisterns,  broken  cis- 
terns, that  can  hold  no  water. 

Sermon  VIII.      God  is  ivorthy  of  Confidence  116 

Job  xxii.  21.    Acquaint  now  thyself  with  him,  and  be  at  peace. 

Sermon  IX.     Repentance 132 

Acts  xvii.  30.  And  the  times  of  this  ignorance  God  winked  at ;  but  now 
commandeth  all  men  every  where  to  repent. 

Sermon  X.      Salvation  Easy 148 

Matt.  xi.  30.     My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light. 

Sermon  XI.      The  Principles  on  luhich  a  Profession  of 

Religion  should  be  made.    No.  1 164 

2  Cor.  vi.  17,  IS.  Wherefore  come  cut  from  among  them,  and  be  ve  sepa- 
rate, saith  the  Lord,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing;  and  I  will" receive 
you,  and  will  be  a  Father  \uito  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, saith  the  Lord  Almighty. 

1*  6 


6  CONTENTS. 

Pag« 

Sermon  XII.     The  Principles  on  ivhich  a  Profession  of 

Religion  should  be  made.     No.  2 181 

2  Cor.  vi.  17,  18.  Wherefore  come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye  sepa- 
rate, saith  the  Lord,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing;  and  1  will  receive 
you,  and  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, saith  the  Lord  Almighty. 

Sermon  XIII.     Enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ.   No.  1««193 

Phil.  iii.  18.  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell 
you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

Sermon  XIV.    Enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ.    No.  2-. 208 

Phil.  iii.  18.  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell 
you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

Sermon  XV.    Enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ.  No.  3««««221 

Phil.  iii.  18,  19.  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now 
tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ, 
whose  end  is  destruction. 

Sermon  XVI.     The  Bide  of  Christianity,  in  regard  to 

Conformity  to  the  JVorld 234 

Rom.  xii.  2.    And  be  not  conformed  to  this  world. 

Sermon  XVII.     The  Blessings  of  a  Benignant  Spirit" '252 

Col.  iii.  12.     Put  on,  therefore,  as  the  elect  of  God— kindness. 

Sermon  XVIII.     Secret  Prayer  -266 

Matt,  vi  6.  But  thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when 
thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret;  and  thy 
Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly. 

Sermon  XIX.     The  Sabbath 281 

Ex.  XX.  8.    Remember  the  Sabbath-day,  to  keep  it  holy. 

Sermon  XX.     Secret  Faults  296 

Psalm  xix.  12.  Who  can  understand  his  errors'?  Cleanse  thou  me  from 
secret  faults. 

Sermon  XXI.    Preparation  to  meet  God 311 

Amos  iv.  12.    Prepare  to  meet  thy  God. 

Sermon  XXII.     The  Burden  of  Dumah  325 

Isa.  xxi.  11,  12.  The  burden  of  Dumah.  He  calleth  to  me  o\\\.  of  Seir, 
Watchman,  what  of  the  night  1  Watchman,  what  of  the  nightl  The 
waicliman  said,  The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the  night. — If  ye  will  en- 
quire, enquire  ye.    Return,  come. 

Sermon  XXIII.     The  Harvest  Past 342 

Jer.  viii.  20.    The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not 


PRACTICAL     SERMONS. 


SERMON   I. 

THE    FREENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL. 

Rev.  xxii.  17.  And  the  Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  Come.  And  let  him 
that  heareth  say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst,  Come.  And  whoso- 
ever will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely. 

The  obvious  sentiment  of  this  beautiful  passage  of 
Scripture  is,  that  the  offers  of  salvation  are  made  freely 
to  all  men,  and  that  the  invitation  is  to  be  pressed  on  the 
attention  by  all  the  means  which  can  be  employed.  To 
this  sentiment,  I  propose  at  this  time  to  invite  your  atten- 
tion. 

The  figure  of  "  the  water  of  life"  which  John  employs 
in  the  text,  is  one  that  often  occurs  in  the  Scriptures  to 
represent  the  mercy  of  God  tov/ards  mankind.  Thus 
Isaiah  (xxxv.  6)  in  speaking  of  the  times  of  the  Messiah 
says,  "  Then  shall  the  lame  man  leap  as  an  hart,  and  the 
tongue  of  the  dumb  sing :  for  in  the  wilderness  shall  waters 
break  out,  and  streams  in  the  desert.  And  the  parched 
ground  shall  become  a  pool,  and  the  thirsty  land  springs 
of  water."  And  again  (xli.  18),  "I  will  open  rivers  in 
high  places,  and  fountains  in  the  midst  of  the  vallies :  I 
will  make  the  wilderness  a  pool  of  water,  and  the  dry 
land  springs  of  water."  And  again  (Iv.  1),  "Ho,  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that  hath 
no  money  ;  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  wine 
and  milk  without  money,  and  without  price."  The  idea 
in  all  these  passages  is,  that  the  blessings  of  the  gospel 
would  resemble  fountains  and  running  streams ;  as  if  in 
the  solitary,  sandy  desert,  streams  of  water,  pure,  refresh- 
ing, and  ample,  should  suddenly  break  forth,  and  should 
fill  the  desolate  plains  with  verdure,  and  should  gladden 

7 


8  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  heart  of  the  faintmg  traveller, — streams  of  which  each 
coming  caravan  might  partake  without  money  and  with- 
out charge.  In  a  world  which  in  regard  to  its  real  com- 
forts is  not  unaptly  compared  to  a  waste  of  pathless  sands, 
the  blessings  of  the  gospel  would  burst  forth  like  cooling, 
perennial  fountains  ;  and  man  like  a  weary  and  thirsty 
pilgrim  might  partake  and  be  happy, — as  the  traveller 
sits  down  by  such  a  fountain  and  slakes  his  thirst  in  the 
desert. 

In  the  text,  however,  the  particular  idea  is,  that  men 
are  freely  invited  to  partake  of  the  blessings  of  salvation. 
They  are  invited  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  by  the  bride — ■ 
the  church — to  come.  So  free  is  salvation  that  even  he 
who  hears  of  it  may  go  "and  say  to  kindred  and  friend, 
'come.'  They  who  thirst  may  come:— they  who  are 
pressed  down  by  the  consciousness  of  the  want  of  some- 
thing like  this  to  make  them  happy,  who  are  satisfied 
that  happiness  can  noAvhere  else  be  found,  who  thirst 
for  salvation  under  the  consciousness  of  sin,  and  the 
feeling  that  the  "  world  can  never  give  the  bliss  for 
which  they  sigh,"  are  invited  to  come  ;  and  all  who 
choose  may  come  and  partake  freely  of  the  waters  of 
life. — John  saw  in  vision  (ch.  xxh.  1)  "a  pure  river  of 
water  of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne 
of  God  and  the  Lamb."  To  that  pure  and  clear  river 
of  salvation,  men  are  invited  to  come  freely.  There 
they  may  slake  their  thirst.  There  the  desires  of  the 
immortal  mind,  where  all  earthly  things  fail,  may  be 
satisfied. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  in  this  discourse — though  my 
text  might  seem  to  invite  to  it — to  dwell  on  the  fact  that 
the  gospel  is  offered  to  all  men ;  that  the  Redeemer  died 
for  all ;  that  the  Eternal  Father  is  willing  to  save  all ; 
or  that  ample  provision  is  made  for  all  who  will  come. 
On  these  points,  it  is  sufficient  for  my  present  purpose  to 
say,  that  my  text  declares  that,  "  whosoever  will  may 
take  the  water  of  life  freely  ;"  that  God  has  elsewhere 
said,  "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the 
waters  ;"  that  the  Redeemer  has  said,  "  come  unto  me 
all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  1  will  give 
you  rest."  It  is  enough  that  God  has  solemnly  sworn, 
"  as  I  live  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked, 


THE    FREENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  9 

but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  liis  way  and  hve  ;"  that 
it  is  solemnly  declared  that  Christ  '*  by  the  grace  of  God 
tasted  death  for  every  man;"  that  he  is  "the  propitiation 
for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,"  and  that  the  Saviour 
has  given  the  assurance  that,  "  every  one  that  asketh 
rocciveth,  and  he  that  seeketh  findeth,  and  to  him  that 
knocketh  it  shall  be  opened."  It  would  be  sufficient  to 
prove  this,  if  there  were  nothing  else,  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
when  about  to  ascend  to  heaven,  said  to  his  disciples, 
"  Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to 
every  creature — he  that  believeth  and  is  baptized  shall 
be  saved."  I  ask  no  higher  proof  that  the  plan  of 
salvation  is  adapted  to  all,  and  that  it  contains  ample 
blessings  for  all.  I  desire  no  other  argument  to  show 
that  the  doors  of  heaven  are  opened  wide,  and  that  the 
Father  of  mercies  waits  to  save  men.  I  ask  no  other 
warrant  for  making  the  ofter  of  salvation  to  as  many  of 
the  lost  children  of  men  as  I  may  ever  be  enabled  to  do, 
or  of  giving  the  a,ssnrance  to  man,  wherever  I  may  meet 
him,  that  God  is  willing  to  save  him  from  eternal  death. 

Taking  our  high  stand,  therefore,  on  these  incontro- 
vertible positions,  and  with  these  full  aud  free  offers  of 
life  clearly  in  view,  my  desire  is,  to  press  the  invitation 
in  the  text  on  your  attention.  I  wish  to  state  some  of 
the  appeals  which  the  gospel  makes  to  you  as  individuals. 
I  wish  to  come  to  you  and  reason  with  you,  and  show 
you  why  you  should  embrace  it ;  and  I  shall  be  satisfied 
if  I  can  so  vary  the  form  of  the  invitation  that  my  beau- 
tiful text  may  find  its  way,  as  it  ought  to  be  allowed  to, 
to  the  heart. 

Vv'hy  then  should  you  embrace  the  offer  of  salvation 
in  the  gospel  ?  In  what  way  is  this  invitation  pressed  on 
your  attention  ?     I  answer,  it  is  done, 

I.  In  the  first  place,  by  your  own  conviction  of  the 
truth  and  the  obligations  of  religion.  I  mean  that  the 
convictions  of  the  understanding  are  on  the  side  of  re- 
ligion, and  that  Christianity  makes  its  appeals  to  you 
with  the  presumption  that  its  claims  are  seen  and  known 
to  be  right.  We  come  to  you,  when  we  preach  the 
gospel,  with  the  assurance  that  we  carry  with  us  the 
decisions  of  the  understanding,  though  we  may  fail  in 


'3: 

•5 


10  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

to  you  as  to  those  who  have  no  disposition  to  cavil  with 
the  argument  for  the  truth  of  rehgion  ;  who  are  wilhng 
to  be  numbered  among  the  supporters  and  the  defenders 
of  the  gospel  ;  and  who  are  cherishing  the  purpose  more 
or  less  distinctly  formed,  at  some  time  to  be  Christians. 
I  refer  to  facts  such  as  the  following. 

(1.)  You  believe  that  Christianity  is  true.  You  admit 
this  as  a  truth  which  you  are  not  disposed  to  controvert, 
and  which  you  are  willing  should  be  understood  by  your 
children  and  friends  to  be  one  of  the  settled  truths  on  which 
your  mind  has  no  doubt.  You  would  be  unwilling  that 
a  wife,  a  sister,  a  child,  or  a  parent,  should  tlhnk  otherwise 
of  you  than  that  this  is  the  deliberate  conviction  of  your 
minds,  a  conviction  in  which  you  purpose  to  live,  and  to 
die.  You  wish  to  be  understood  as  having  no  sympathy 
with  an  atheist,  an  infidel,  a  scoffer.  With  them  you 
have  not  been  ranked  ;  with  them  you  purpose  not  to  be 
found.  When  I  say  this,  I  mean  that  it  is  the  conviction 
of  the  most  of  those  to  whom  the  gospel  is  preached. 
This  conviction  may  be  the  result  of  education  ;  or,  it 
may  have  arisen  from  the  habit  of  long  and  patient  reflec- 
tion ;  or,  it  may  have  been  formed  from  the  observation  of 
the  eflects  of  religion  on  the  minds  and  lives  of  others ;  or, 
it  may  be  possibly  a  conviction  whose  origin  you  cannot 
well  define  ;  or,  it  may  have  been  the  result  of  an  extended 
and  patient  examination  of  the  evidences  of  the  Christian 
religion.  It  is  not  material  to  my  argument  now,  what  is 
the  origin  of  it,  or  by  what  arguments  you  would  be  dis- 
posed to  maintain  it.  The  fact  is  all  that  is  of  importance 
now  ;  and  that  fact  is,  that  the  divine  origin  of  Christianity 
is  one  of  those  truths  which  you  do  not  presume  to  call 
in  question,  and  which  you  do  not  wish  to  be  understood 
as  doubting.  You  feel  that  a  part  of  your  reputation  is 
involved  in  holding  the  opinion  that  Christianity  is  true. 

I  assume,  therefore,  that  those  whom  I  address  at  this 
time  are  disposed  to  admit  that  Christianity  is  true,  and 
that  it  has  a  claim  on  their  hearts,  and  lives.  It  is  not 
to  be  presumed  of  any  man,  without  proof,  that  he  is  an 
atheist  or  an  infidel,  any  more  than  it  is,  that  he  is  a  liar 
or  a  murderer.  It  is  not  true  that  the  mass  of  men  in 
any  commimity  are  infidels  or  atheists ;  nor  is  it  to  be 
presumed  of  any  one  that  he  is  an  nifidel  unless  he  gives 


THE    FUEENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  11 

US  proof  of  it  that  shall  be  irrefragable  in  his  profession 
or  his  life, — proof  that  would  satisfy  a  court  and  jury  on 
the  point.  There  is  something  about  Christianity  which 
commends  it  wherever  it  comes,  and  wherever  its  effects 
are  seen,  as  true,  and  pure,  and  good,  and  adapted  to  the 
condition  of  mankind  ;  and  wherever  it  is  long  proclaimed 
it  secures  the  popular  voice  in  its  favor,  and  constrains  the 
intellect,  if  not  the  heart  of  man,  to  bow  before  it.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  infidelity  is  usually  the  work  of  time  and 
of  sin.  Men  who  have  been  trained  under  the  influence 
of  religion,  do  not  speculatively  cast  off"  the  authority  of 
God  until  they  have  formed  a  purpose  to  live  in  a  manner 
which  he  forbids.  Youth  usually  adheres  to  its  belief  of 
the  truth  of  religion  until  it  is  enticed  by  the  love  of  sin, 
or  by  the  seductive  arts  of  aged  infidelity.  The  young 
are  full  of  sincerity,  and  openness,  and  confidence,  and 
they  admit  the  claims  of  the  principles  of  virtue  and  re- 
Ugion.  We  are  therefore  to  look  for  infidels  and  atheists, 
not  among  the  young,  and  the  ingenuous,  but  among 
the  profligate,  the  abandoned,  the  profane  and  the  sen- 
sual. These  all  are  infidels  as  a  matter  of  course.  The 
speculative  belief  of  Christianity  and  the  sanctuary  were 
forsaken  together,  and  infidelity  and  vice  became  at  the 
same  moment  bosom  companions. 

Now  it  is  to  this  belief  of  the  truth  of  Christianity  that 
I  make  my  appeal.  The  gospel  addresses  you  as  if  you 
knew  and  admitted  it  to  be  true,  and  asks  you  to  "come.'' 
It  is  not  the  claim  of  a  new  and  unknown  religion.  It 
is  not  the  voice  of  a  stranger  that  invites  you.  It  is^tliat 
m  Avhichyou  have  been  trained  ;  a  religion  whose  eflects 
you  have  witnessed  from  childhood ;  which  has  the 
sanction  of  a  father  and  mother,  and  of  the  best  friends 
which  you  now  have,  or  have  had  on  earth.  It  is  that 
whose  effects  you  see  in  the  community  around  you  ; 
whose  consolations  and  sustaining  power  you  may  have 
often  witnessed  in  trial ;  nay,  whose  hopes  and  joys  you 
may  have  seen  exemplified  on  the  death-bed  of  your 
most  beloved  friend.  It  simply  asks  you,  in  a  barren 
world,  to  embrace  consolation  which  you  know  to  have 
an  existence  ;  to  take  the  waters  of  life  which  you  believe 
flow  freely  for  all;    to   come   to   a  Saviour  who   you 


12  PRACTICAL    SERIMOlsS. 

believe  poured  out  his  precious  blood  that  you  might 
live  forever. 

I  kuow  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  the  work  of  education, 
and  that  I  am  appealing  to  a  mere  prejudice.  But  I  reply, 
that  it  is  not  with  aU  a  mere  prejudice,  nor  does  the  argu- 
ment which  I  urge  prechide  the  supposition  of  the  most 
close  and  patient  examination.  I  argue  from  the  admitted 
truth  of  Ciiristianity  on  whatever  ground  that  miay  be 
conceded.  But  suppose  that  it  is  the  result  of  education,  I 
would  observe  that  there  are  opinions  and  principles  that 
have  been  inculcated  by  education  that  constitute  a  just 
ground  of  appeal.  To  what  in  most  instances  will  you 
trace  the  felt  and  conceded  obligation  of  truth,  of  chastity, 
of  honesty,  of  patriotism,  of  modesty,  but  to  the  influences 
of  education  ?  Are  they  vahieless  because  they  have  been 
instilled  with  parental  care  from  the  cradle  ?  Shall  they  be 
rejected  and  despised  because  they  thus  depend  on  lessons 
that  have  been  inculcated  with  anxious  solicitude  from 
very  childhood  ?  Or  is  it,  and  should  it  not  be  presumptive 
proof  of  their  value,  that  they  are  the  lessons  which  a 
venerated  father  has  taught ;  that  they  are  the  sentiments 
of  a  much  loved  mother  ;  that  they  are  virtues  which  give 
ornament  and  grace  to  a  sister,  and  that  they  command  the 
assent  of  the  community  at  large  ?  He  walks  safely  who 
walks  in  the  ways  of  virtue  ;  he  cannot  greatly  err  who 
desires  to  please  his  Maker  and  to  live  for  heaven. 

(2.)  Again.  Religion  appeals  to  you  not  only  by  its 
admitted  truth,  but  by  3^our  ovv^n  reason.  This  is  what 
I  mean.  Your  reason  is  always  on  the  side  of  God  and 
of  his  claims.  It  always  approves  the  service  of  God,  no 
matter  how  soon  that  service  is  begun,  and  no  matter  with 
what  self-denial  and  fidelity  it  is  performed.  It  always 
condemns  the  opposite,  no  matter  how  plausibly  the 
neglect  of  God  may  be  urged,  and  no  matter  what  may 
be  the  apparent  and  temporary  pleasure  found  in  the  ways 
of  sin.  Reason  never  lends  its  voice  in  favor  of  atheism, 
or  scepticism,  or  the  neglect  of  religion,  or  sensuality,  or 
crime.  It  is  too  faithful  to  the  God  who  has  formed  the 
human  understanding,  and  who  has  made  it  capable  of 
pronouncing  on  truth  and  duty.  There  is  not  one  of  the 
subjects  which  reason  investigates  that  does  not  utter  a 


THE    FREENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  13 

loud  and  distinct  voice  in  favor  of  virtue,  of  religion,  and 
of  God.  Tliere  is  not  a  star,  however  faint  or  obscure  ; 
not  a  comet,  however  remotely  it  may  travel ;  not  a  petal 
of  a  flower  or  an  insect's  wing ;  not  a  fibre  of  a  muscle 
or  a  nerve,  that  does  not  rebuke  all  the  feeling^  of  the 
atheist  and  the  scoffer.  There  is  not  a  ray  of  light  or  a 
dew  drop  ;  not  a  living  thing  or  a  grain  of  sand  that  can 
be  made  tributary  to  the  argument  of  the  atheist.  And 
tliere  is  not  one  solitpay  consideration  which  reason  can 
suggest  that  will  justify  the  neglect  of  God,  and  the  con- 
cerns of  the  soul  for  a  single  moment.  I  am  sure  that, 
whatever  may  be  the  feelings  of  my  hearers,  I  always 
iiave  their  understanding  with  me  when  I  urge  on  them 
the  claims  of  God.  I  never  speak  to  men  in  the  name  of 
my  Master  without  the  utmost  assurance  that  their 
reason  approves  of  all  that  I  urge  from  the  Bible,  and 
tiiat  it  would  approve  their  course  should  they  one  and 
all  at  once  become  decided  Christians.  If  you  doubt 
this,  show  me  one  man  who  in  his  sober  reflections  ever 
regretted  his  having  become  a  Christian.  Point  me  to  one 
even  in  the  flames  of  martyrdom,  or  on  a  bed  of  death, 
or  in  a  career  of  prosperity,  who  regretted  that  he  had  so 
soon  or  so  entirely  given  himself  to  the  service  of  God. 
Tell  me  of  one  whose  reason,  when  the  sober  moment  of 
death  approaclied,  condemned  him  for  having  sought  to 
live  to  the  honor  of  God  ;  or  tell  me  of  one — yes,  even 
one,  who  has  left  iha  most  gay  and  splendid  circles  of  life  ; 
vvdio  has  gone  from  the  scenes  of  brilliant  but  hollow 
pleasure  to  the  cross  ;  who  has  given  up  the  world  for 
Christian  duties  and  self-denials  however  a^rduous,  who 
ever  yet  regretted  it.  No,  that  Christian  remains  yet  to 
be  found  who  has  left  a  gay  and  a  wicked  world,  and  has 
chosen  the  service  of  God,  who  has  for  one  moment 
regretted  the  choice,  and  v/hose  whole  soul  has  not 
approved  the  most  self-denying  service  in  the  cause  of 
the  Redeemer.  And  I  am  certain,  my  hearers,  that  I 
now  have  your  reason  in  favor  of  the  appeal  which  I 
make  that  you  would  come  and  take  the  water  of  life. 
I  am  certain,  and  so  are  you,  that  should  you  one  and  all 
hear  this  appeal,  there  can  be  no  period  in  all  your  future 
being  when  your  reason  would  not  approve  the  deed. 
No,  come  honor  or  dishonor  ;  good  report  or  evil  report ; 


14  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

poverty  or  wealth  ;  sickness  or  health  ;  storms  and  tem- 
pests, or  calms  and  smishine  ;  come  life  or  death  ;  come 
calamity  when  and  where  it  may,  you  would  bless  God 
that  you  had  resolved  to  drink  of  the  water  of  the  river 
of  life. 

(3.)  Equally  clear  is  it  that  the  conscience  is  on  the  side 
of  religion  and  the  claims  of  God.  I  am  always  sure  that 
it  is  in  my  favor  when  I  urge  the  law  and  the  claims  of  my 
Maker.  I  am  sure  that  it  is  never  at  peace  until  peace  is 
found  in  the  gospel.  The  Christian  has  always  a  calm 
and  an  approving  conscience  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he 
has  become  a  Christian.  He  has  no  misgivings.  He  has 
no  feeling  at  any  time  that  he  has  done  wrong  in  doing  it. 
He  cannot  have ;  he  never  will  have.  But  the  sinner  never 
has  an  approving  conscience  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he 
lives  in  the  neglect  of  religion.  He  may  be  callous  and 
insensible,  but  that  is  not  to  have  an  approving  conscience. 
Nor  will  his  conscience  ever  approve  the  neglect  of  reli- 
gion, or  give  him  peace  for  having  refused  to  come  and 
drink  of  the  proffered  water  of  life. 

Here  then  is  the  first  reason  which  I  urge,  or  the  first 
ground  of  my  appeal  to-day.  It  is  an  appeal  drawn  from 
your  admission  of  the  truth  of  Christianity ;  from  your 
understanding,  and  from  the  monitions  of  your  own  con- 
science. By  these,  Christianity  urges  you  to  return  to  God. 
By  these,  it  presses  its  claims  on  your  attention.  It  is  no 
stranger  that  pleads,  no  foreigner,  no  religion  of  doubtful 
nature  or  doubtful  claims.  You  admit  its  truth  ;  you 
admit  its  claims  ;  your  conscience  responds  to  its  demands. 
Yielding,  you  would  follow  the  dictates  of  your  own  un- 
derstanding; embracing  it,  you  would  do  that  which  you 
know  your  own  conscience  would  forever  approve. 

II.  In  the  second  place,  it  is  urged  upon  your  attention 
and  acceptance,  by  your  wants  and  necessities.  You  need 
such  a  religion.  It  is  adapted  to  the  immortal  mind  thirst- 
ing for  happiness,  and  you  are  conscious  that  some  such 
system  as  that  of  the  gospel  alone  can  meet  those  immortal 
desires.  My  position  is,  that  such  are  the  obvious  wants 
of  men  that  they  are  conscious  that  they  need  some  such 
salvation  as  the  gospel  furnishes  and  offers  to  them. 

(1.)  I  mean  that  when  a  man  honestly  looks  at  his  own 
heart  and  life  he  is  conscious  of  depravity,  and  feels  his 


THE    FREENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  15 

need  of  the  pardoning  mercy  of  God,  and  that  this  sense 
of  the  need  of  pardon  should  lead  him  to  embrace  this 
plan  which  proposes  forgiveness.  That  the  heart  is 
depraved  and  polluted  is,  I  presume,  at  some  period  of 
life,  the  conviction  of  every  man.  Never  do  I  urge  a 
doctrine  of  the  Bible  that  I  am  more  sure  commends 
itself  to  every  one  of  my  hearers,  than  when  I  preach  the 
doctrine  of  depravity,  and  when  I  appeal  to  themselves 
for  the  consciousness  of  its  truth.  There  are  moments 
when  the  most  hardened,  and  gay,  and  thoughtless  have 
some  misgivings  that  all  is  not  right,  and  that  their  hves 
are  such  as  to  expose  them  to  the  displeasure  of  God. 
There  are  moments  when  there  is  pensiveness,  sadness, 
melancholy  ;  when  somehow  the  remembrance  of  guilt 
troubles  the  soul ;  when  sins  long  since  forgotten  seem 
to  come  in  groups  and  clusters  as  if  conjured  up  by  some 
magic  wand ;  when  the  whole  sky  seems  overcast  with 
a  gathering  tempest ;  and  when  there  is  a  fearful  appre- 
hension that  all  that  the  Bible  has  said  about  sin,  and 
woe,  and  a  judgment  to  come,  is  true.  At  one  time  it 
may  be  a  momentary  conviction  coming  over  the  com- 
placencies of  the  heart,  and  the  joyous  scenes  of  life,  like 
a  dark  cloud  flying  suddenly  over  the  disk  of  the  sun, 
and  that  soon  passes  away.  At  another  it  is  like  the 
gentle  and  quiet  shades  of  an  evening  settling  on  the 
mind,  on  which  the  sun  does  not  rise  for  weeks  and 
months,  leaving  the  soul  in  long  and  distressing  sadness. 
At  another  it  is  like  a  tempest  that  rolls,  and  flashes,  and 
thunders  along  the  sky.  At  another  it  is  like  a  dense  and 
dark  night — a  night  without  moon  or  stars,  and  where 
the  soul  is  involved  in  impenetrable  gloom. 

Now  the  gospel  appeals  to  men  by  this  conscious  need 
of  pardon.  Man  wants  peace.  He  wants  light.  He 
wants  forgiveness.  And  the  gospel  comes  and  professes 
its  readiness  to  extend  forgiveness,  and  to  furnish  relief 
for  a  mind  thus  darkened  and  sad.  Man  is  conscious 
that  he  is  a  sinner:  and  when  he  feels  that,  1  ask  no 
other  proof  that  the  gospel  is  a  scheme  fitted  to  him  than 
to  be  permitted  to  go  to  him  in  that  state,  and  to  tell  him 
that  through  that  plan,  those  sins  though  like  scarlet  may 
be  white  as  snow  -,  though  red  like  crimson,  that  they  may 


16  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

be  as  wool.  The  gospel  then  meets  man  as  running 
streams  and  fountams  that  break  forth  m  the  desert,  do 
the  caravan  ;  and  is  as  much  fitted  to  tliat  dark  and  be- 
nighted soul  as  such  fountains  are  to  the  fainting  traveller 
there. 

(2.)  I  mean  further,  that  when  men  look  at  the  trials 
of  life,  they  feel  the  need  of  some  system  like  that  of  the 
gospel  that  shall  be  fitted  to  give  consolation.  It  is  in 
vain  for  men  to  attempt  to  avoid  trial.  No  strength  how- 
ever great ;  no  plan  however  wise  ;  no  talent  however 
brilliant ;  no  v/ealth  however  unbounded  ;  no  schemes 
of  pleasure  or  amusement  however  skilfully  planned,  will 
drive  disappointment,  and  care,  and  sickness,  and  pain 
from  our  world.  Life  is  after  all  a  weary  pilgrimage, 
and  is  burdened  with  many  woes.  Man's  heart  is  filled 
with  anxiety,  and  his  steps  are  weary  as  he  walks  onward 
to  the  grave.  Now  I  mean  that  man  feels  the  necessity 
of  some  balm  of  life ;  some  alleviation  of  cares  ;  something 
that  shall  perform  the  friendly  office  of  dividing  the  cares 
of  this  world,  and  that  shall  put  an  upholding  hand  beneath 
our  sufi'ering  and  exhausted  nature.  Men  seek  universally 
some  such  comforter  and  alleviator  of  care  and  sorrow, 
and  if  they  do  not  find  it,  life  is  a  weary  and  wretched 
journey.  One  retreats  to  the  academic  grove,  and  seeks 
consolation  in  philosophy — in  calm  contemplation,  far 
away  from  the  bustle  and  tumult  of  life.  Another  goes 
up  the  sides  of  Parnassus,  and  drinks  from  the  Castalian 
fount — seeking  it  in  the  pursuits  of  elegant  literature,  and 
in  the  company  of  the  Muses.  Another  flies  to  the  temple 
of  Mammon  and  seeks  it  in  the  pursuit  and  possession  of 
gold.  Another  aims  to  find  it  in  the  brilliant  and  fascinat- 
ing world  of  song  and  the  dance;  another  in  the  pursuits 
of  professional  life  ;  another  in  orgies  of  the  god  of  Avine, 
and  the  cup  that  is  supposed  to  drown  every  care.  In  all 
these  there  is  a  sense  of  the  need  oi  something  that  shall 
give  comfort ;  something  that  shall  wipe  away  falling 
tears;  something  that  shall  bind  up  broken,  and  pour 
consolation  into  heavy  hearts.  Amidst  these  things  prof- 
fering consolation,  the  gospel  also  comes,  and  offers  to  the 
weary,  the  heavy-laden,  and  the  sad,  its  consolations. 
That  also  offers  support ;  proposes  a  plan  of  wiping  away 


THE    FREENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  17 

tears  ;  of  comforting  the  hearts  of  the  sad,  and  points  the 
sufferer  to  the  river  of  Ufe,  and  asks  him  to  come  and  take 
freely — and  never  fails. 

(3.)  I  mean  further,  that  when  men  look  at  the  shoi'i- 
ness  of  life,  and  at  the  certainty  of  death,  there  is  a  con- 
sciousness that  some  such  system  as  that  of  the  gospel  is 
needed,  and  that  by  this  deep  consciousness  the  gospel 
appeals  to  men.  "  We  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf,"  and  we 
cannot  but  be  conscious  that  however  blooming  and 
vigorous  we  may  now  be,  the  time  is  not  far  remote 
when  we  shall  be  cut  down  as  the  flower,  and  wither 
like  the  green  herb.  Our  day,  even  in  its  highest  meri- 
dian glory,  hastens,  as  Wolsey  said  he  did,  to  its  setting ; 
and  in  spite  of  all  the  aid  of  philosophy,  and  all  the 
amusements  of  life,  men  tvill  feel  sad  at  the  prospect  of 
death.  A  death-bed  is  a  melancholy  place.  The  parting 
with  friends  forever  is  a  sad  and  mournful  scene.  The 
closing  up  of  all  the  plans  of  life,  and  the  starting  off  on  a 
journey  to  a  dark  and  unknown  world  from  which  "no 
traveller  returns,"  is  an  important  and  a  deeply-affecting 
event.  The  dying  chill ;  the  clammy  sweat ;  the  fading 
eye  ;  the  enfeebled  delirious  mind,  are  all  sad  and  gloomy 
things.  The  coffin  is  a  gloomy  abode ;  and  the  grave, 
for  him  who  has  reposed  on  a  bed  of  down,  is  a  cold  and 
cheerless  resting-place.  The  thought  of  corruption  and 
decay  until  the  frame,  once  so  beautiful  and  active,  is  all 
gone  back  to  its  native  dust,  is  a  gloomy  thought,  and 
one  that  should  make  a  deep  impression  on  the  human 
mind. 

Now  men  may  blunt  the  force  of  these  thoughts  as 
much  as  they  can.  They  may  fly  from  them  to  business ; 
to  their  professions  ;  to  amusement ;  to  sin — but  all  will 
not  do.  Nature  will  be  true  to  herself,  and  true  to  the 
designs  of  God,  and  it  cannot  be  but  that  when  a  man 
thinks  of  the  grave,  there  should  be  a  "  fond  desire,"  a 
"  longing  after  immortality."  Man  would  not  die  for- 
ever. He  would  live  again.  He  would  be  recovered 
from  that  horrid,  chilly  sleep,  from  that  cold  grave,  from 
that  repulsive  stiUness  and  gloom.  There  is  an  inex- 
tinguishable desire  to  live  again ;  a  feeling  which  we  can 
never  get  rid  of,  that  God  did  not  form  the  wondrous 


18  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

powers  of  mind  for  the  trpaisient  pleasures  of  this  brief 
life.  Man  feels  his  need  of  the  hope  of  heaven ;  and 
when  the  gospel  comes  to  him  and  invites  him  to  drink 
of  the  river  of  life,  and  to  live  forever,  he  caimot  but  feel 
that  it  is  a  system  adapted  to  his  whole  nature,  and  is 
just  such  a  system  as  his  circumstances  demand.  The 
invitation  of  the  gospel  is  one  that  meets  all  the  deep 
aspirations  of  his  soul,  and  is  just  fitted  to  his  condition. 
It  is  such  as  a  dying  and  yet  a  deathless  being  ought  to 
desire;  it  is  fitted  to  meet  the  woes  and  sorrows  of  a 
wretched  world.  And  all  that  is  in  man  that  is  great, 
all  his  desire  of  consolation  and  of  immortal  happiness, 
prompts  him  to  come  and  take  the  water  of  life  ;  and  the 
gospel  designs  to  keep  the  truth  of  the  guilt  and  the  sor- 
row of  the  world  before  the  mind,  to  induce  the  sufferer 
and  the  sinner  to  come  an.d  embrace  pardon  and  peace. 

Thus  far  I  have  not  adverted  to  the  direct  invitations 
of  the  gospel.  I  have  spoken  rather  of  the  character  and 
circumstances  of  man.  I  turn  now  to  one  other  topic, 
and  with  that  I  shall  close. 

III.  I  refer,  therefore,  in  the  third  place,  to  the  special 
direct  invitations  in  the  Scriptures  to  embrace  the  gospel. 
I  shall  dwell  mainly  on  those  referred  to  in  the  text,  but 
shall,  in  a  rapid  mxanner,  glance  at  some  others  also.  I 
observe,  then — 

That  God  the  Father  invites  you,  and  presses  the  gos- 
pel on  your  attention.  On  tliis  I  need  not  dwell.  If  any 
one  doubts  that  the  eternal  Father  invites  men  to  come 
to  him,  and  is  willing  that  the  wanderer  should  return, 
let  him  ponder  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son.  In  that 
most  beautiful  and  touching  of  all  compositions,  how  ten- 
derly and  pathetically  are  the  feelings  of  God  portrayed 
in  the  joy  of  the  aged  father  when  he  sees  his  son  afar 
off;  when  he  goes  forth  to  meet  him,  and  when  he  greets 
that  long-lost  son  in  an  affectionate  embrcice.  With  such 
joy  does  God  the  Father  come  forth  to  meet  the  returning 
sinner ;  and  with  such  desires  does  he  proffer  pardon  to 
the  guilty,  and  a  home  to  the  wandering.  Open  your 
Bibles.  Is  there  one  of  the  human  race,  however  guilty 
and  wretched,  to  whom  God  does  not  extend  the  offer  of 
mercy  ?    Is  there  one  who  has  gone  off"  so  far  that  he  is 


THE    FUEENESS    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  19 

not  invited  to  return?  Is  there  one  who  would  not -be 
welcomed  should  he  again  come  back  to  his  Father's 
house  and  arms  ?  0,  no.  There  is  not  one.  God,  the 
eternal  Father,  all  along  your  way  has  lifted  up  the  voice 
of  invitation  and  entreaty,  and  is  saying  every  where  and 
every  day  to  man,  "  Let  him  return  to  the  Lord,  and  he 
will  have  mercy  upon  him,  and  to  God,  for  he  will  abun- 
dantly pardon.''  My  hearer,  all  along  your  way,  from 
the  cradle  to  the  present  hour,  God  the  Father  has  uttered 
but  one  voice,  the  voice  of  mercy  ;  he  has  expressed  but 
one  wish — it  is  that  you  should  turn  and  live.  Heaven 
he  has  oifered  you  with  the  fulness  of  its  glory ;  and  by 
all  that  is  there  of  peace,  and  beauty,  and  bliss ;  by  ail 
that  is  valuable  in  his  favor  and  attractive  in  his  own 
house,  he  speaks  to  you  and  says,  "  Whosoever  will,  let 
him  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 

So  has  spoken  the  Son  of  God.  Need  I  dwell  on  this  ? 
To  invite  sinners  to  return,  he  came  forth  from  the  bosom 
of  the  Father,  and  dwelt  among  men.  It  was  not  be- 
cause he  was  not  happy  that  he  became  an  exile  from 
the  skies ;  it  was  not  because  he  did  not  wear  a  crown 
that  was  brilliant  enough,  or  sway  a  sceptre  over  an  em- 
pire that  was  not  vast  enough  ;  it  was  because  here  was 
a  race  of  lost  and  ruined  sinners  which  might  be  restored ; 
because  they  needed  some  such  interposition  to  save  them 
from  eternal  ruin.  And  he  came.  And  what  was  his 
life ;  what  was  his  ministry ;  what  were  his  sufferings 
and  toils,  but  unwearied  invitations  to  the  guilty  and  the 
wretched?  "Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock," 
said  he,  "  if  any  man  will  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in 
to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me."  "  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  "  Every  one  that  asketh  receiveth, 
and  he  that  seeketh  findeth ;  and  to  him  that  knocketh  it 
shall  be  opened."  Did  Christ  ever  utter  a  word  that  ex- 
pressed an  unwillingness  that  the  most  guilty  and  vile 
should  be  saved  ?  Did  he  ever  spurn  from  his  presence 
one  broken-hearted  and  penitent  sinner  ?  Lives  there  a 
man  in  all  the  regions  where  Christian  light  illuminates 
the  face  of  the  world,  who  can  doubt  for  one  moment 
that  the  Redeemer  desires  his  salvation,  and  invites  him 
to  come  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely  ?    No,  sinner, 


20  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

even  you  know  that  if  you  go  to  him,  "  all  covered  o'er" 
as  you  may  be  with  crime,  he  will  welcome  you,  and 
say,  '  Son,  daughter,  be  of  good  cheer,  thy  sins  be  for- 
given thee.' 

So  speaks  the  Holy  Ghost.  "  The  Spirit  says,  come." 
That  sacred  Spirit,  the  Comforter,  sent  by  the  ascended 
Redeemer  to  awaken,  convict,  and  convert  the  soul,  says 
"  Come,"  and  says  so  to  all.  He  comes  to  teach  men 
their  need  of  a  Saviour;  to  acquaint  them  with  their 
guilt ;  to  guide  them  to  the  cross ;  and  all  his  work  on 
the  soul  is  to  impress  that  short  word  in  the  fulness 
of  its  meaning  on  the  heart — "  Come."  To  impress 
that  invitation,  to  lead  men  to  see  its  value  and  its 
power,  he  visits  the  heart,  and  shows  it  its  guilt  and 
its  corruptions.  For  that,  he  awakens  the  mind  of  the 
careless  and  the  secure  in  their  sins — the  pleasure-loving, 
the  gay,  the  worldly,  the  ambitious,  and  shows  them  the 
need  of  a  better  portion  than  this  life  can  give.  For  that, 
he,  in  a  mysterious  manner,  makes  your  mind  pensive 
and  sad  when  in  the  gay  scenes  of  life,  and  when  flowers 
seem  to  be  strewed  and  fragrance  to  be  breathed  all 
around  you.  For  that,  he  produces  the  uneasiness  of 
mind  when  pleasures  "pall  upon  the  sense,"  and  when 
your  bosom  is  conscious  of  its  need  of  more  elevated  joys 
than  this  world  can  give.  For  that,  he  produces  the  sense 
of  sadness  when  you  have  returned  from  your  daily  toils 
weary  with  the  cares  and  the  disappointments  of  life  ; 
when  you  have  sought  and  obtained  the  plaudits  of  the 
world,  and  find  all  an  empty  bubble ;  when  a  man  has 
built  him  houses  and  planted  vineyards,  and  made  him 
gardens  and  orchards,  and  gathered  silver  and  gold,  the 
peculiar  treasure  of  kings  and  of  the  provinces,  and  when 
vanity  of  vanities  is  seen  written  on  them  all.  To  press 
that  invitation  to  come  to  the  water  of  life,  the  Holy 
Spirit  awakens  in  the  heart  the  sense  of  sin,  and  shows 
you  the  need  of  pardon.  For  that,  he  convinces  you  of 
your  past  guilt ;  recals  to  your  mind  the  lessons  of  child- 
hood ;  makes  the  mind  pensive  or  sad  when  you  think  of 
death,  of  God,  of  the  judgment,  of  eternity.  Alike  in 
the  still  and  gentle  influences  of  that  Spirit  on  the  mind, 
and  in  the  terrors  of  that  moment  when  he  overwhelms 
the  soul  with  the  deep  consciousness  of  guilt,  the  object 


THE    FREENESS    OP    THE    GOSPEL.  21 

is  to  impress  upon  the  heart  the  invitation  "•  Come."  I 
said,  '  In  the  still  and  gentle  influences  of  that  Spirit  on 
the  mind.'  You  have  seen  how  the  pliant  osier  bends 
before  the  zephyr,  and  how  the  harvest  field  gently  waves 
in  a  summer's  eve.  So  gently,  and  often  amidst  such 
scenes,  too,  does  the  Spirit  of  God  incline  the  mind  to 
seek  better  things  than  this  world  can  give — in  heaven. 
So  calm,  so  sweet,  so  pure,  are  those  influences  which  in- 
cline the  mind  to  thought,  to  prayer,  to  God.  I  said, 
'  In  the  terrors  of  that  moment  when  he  overwhelms 
the  soul  with  the  deep  consciousness  of  gailt.'  You 
have  seen  the  clouds  grow  dark  in  the  western  sky. 
They  roll  inward  on  themselves,  and  throw  their  infold- 
ing ample  volumes  over  the  heavens.  The  lightnings 
play,  and  tlis3  thunder  rolls,  and  nature  is  in  commotion, 
and  the  tornado  sweeps  over  hill  and  vale,  and  the  oak 
crashes  on  the  mountain.  So  also,  and  in  such  scenes, 
too,  the  stout-hearted  sinner  trembles  under  the  influ- 
ences of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  in  anticipation  of  the 
future  judgment.  He  hears  the  thunder  of  justice  about 
to  condemn  him,  and  sees  the  lightnings  flash  ready  to 
devour  him.  But  it  is  i/et  a  scene  of  mercy.  It  is  not 
to  condemn,  it  is  to  warn  him.  It  is  a  kind  messenger 
sent  forth  from  God — the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Comforter,  the 
admonisher,  whether  in  the  stillness  or  the  storm,  saying 
to  the  sinner,  "  Come— take  the  water  of  life  freely." 

So  the  "  bride"  says,  "  Come."  But  what  is  this  ?  "  I 
John,"  said  the  disciple  in  Patmos,  "  saw  the  holy  cit)^, 
New  Jerusalem,  coming  down  from  God  out  of  heaven, 
prepared  as  a  bride  for  her  husband."  Rev.  xxi.  2.  It  is 
the  voice  of  the  bride,  '^  the  Lamb's  wife" — of  the  church 
triumphant,  the  church  in  heaven,  that  speaks  and  in- 
vites you  to  come.  It  is  not  merely  that  the  church,  by 
lier  ministry,  her  ordinances,  and  her  friends ;  by  her  ap- 
peals and  persuasions  in  the  sanctuary  invites — though 
that  is  true — it  is  that  the  church  redeemed  ;  the  church 
in  heaven  ;  the  church  in  white  robes  before  the  throne  ; 
the  church  now  adorned  in  heaven  as  a  bride,  invites  you 
to  come.  And  what  is  that  church  that  thus  invites  you? 
What  claims  has  she  on  your  attention  ?  Why  should  lier 
voice  be  heard  ? — Who  compose  that  church  ?  The  church 
in  heaven  is  composed  of  those  who  on  earth  tried  both 


22  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

religion  and  the  world ;  and  who  can  now  speak  from 
deep  experience  alike  of  the  trials  and  the  joys  of  the 
Christian  faith.  It  is  a  triumphant  church  that  has  been 
exposed  to  fiery  persecutions,  and  that  has  survived  thern 
all.  A  church  that  has  known  what  it  is  to  be  poor  and 
persecuted  on  earth,  and  what  it  is  in  heaven  to  be  bless- 
ed— and  that  as  the  result  of  all  now  invites  you  to  come 
and  share  its  triumphs  and  its  joys  bought  with  blood. 
Whom  does  the  eye  of  faith  see  in  that  church  in  heaven 
that  invites  you  ?  A  father  may  be  there  ;  a  mother ;  a 
sister  ;  a  lovely  babe.  That  venerated  father,  whose  cold 
remains  you  bedewed  with  tears,  and  OA^er  whose  grave 
you  still  go  to  weep,  is  there,  and  says,  *  Come,  my  son, 
and  take  the  water  of  life  freely.'  That  tender  mother, 
that  often  spoke  to  you  in  childhood  of  Jesus  and  of 
heaven,  still  says,  ^  Come,  my  daughter,  and  take  the 
water  of  life  freely.'  That  much-loved  sister,  now  clothed 
in  white,  and  walking  beside  the  river  of  salvation,  says 
still,  *  Come,  my  brother,  and  take  the  water  of  life 
freely.'  That  sweet  smiling  babe  stretches  out  its  hands 
from  the  world  of  glory,  and  speaks  and  says,  '  Come, 
father,  mother,  come  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely.' 
All  that  church  redeemed — that  church  made  up  of  pro- 
phets, apostles,  confessors, martyrs;  that  church  that  is  now 
amidst  the  glories  of  heaven,  still  says,  '  Come,  there  yet 
is  room.  Heaven's  ample  mansions  shall  furnish  other 
places  of  rest.  There  are  harps  unstrung  which  your 
hands  may  strike.  There  are  eternal  fountains  Avhere 
you  may  drink.  There  are  blest  spirits  there  that  will 
hail  your  coming,  and  rejoice  in  your  joy.'  All  heaven 
invites.  The  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost — the 
one  living  and  one  blessed  God — says,  "  Come."  The 
angels,  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  all  your 
departed  pious  kindred,  all  unite  in  the  invitation,  and 
say,  *  Come,  come,  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely.' 

Need  I  say  that  this  voice  of  invitation  is  echoed  back 
in  your  ears  from  this  world  ?  So  speaks  to  you  a  pious ' 
father;  a  tender  mother;  a  sister,  a  friend.  So  speak 
the  living  to  you,  and  so  addresses  you  the  remembered 
voice  of  the  dead.  Go  walk  among  the  graves.  Beneath 
your  feet,  in  the  sacred  sweet  slumbers  of  a  Christian's 
death,  lies  a  much-loved  mother.  How  still !  How  lovely 


THE    FREENESS    OP    THE    GOSPEL.  23 

a  mother's  grave  !  How  the  memory  deUghts  to  go  back 
to  the  nursery ;  the  fireside ;  the  sick-bed ;  the  anxious 
care  of  a  mother  !  How  it  loves  to  recall  the  gentle  look ; 
the  eye  of  love ;  the  kiss  at  night  of  a  mother.  She 
sleeps  now  in  death,  but  from  that  grave  is  it  fancy  that 
we  still  hear  a  voice,  '  My  beloved  son  !  my  much-loved 
daughter !  Come — come,  and  take  the  water  of  life  freely?' 
No.  Of  all  the  departed  pious  dead ;  of  every  living 
Christian  ;  of  all  holy  beings,  there  is  not  one  who  does 
not  invite  you  to  come.  There  is  not  one  who  would  not 
rejoice  in  seeing  yoit  clothed  in  white,  and  with  palms  of 
victory  in  your  hands  in  heaven.  Yes,  in  their  hearts, 
and  in  their  eternal  dwelling-places  there  yet  is  room — 
room — ample  room  for  all  to  come. 

See  now  what  pleads.  The  eternal  Father ;  the  dying 
Saviour  ;  the  sacred  Spirit ;  all  heaven  ;  earth  ;  the  grave  ; 
conscience ;  reason ;  all  the  universe  invites  and  pleads. 
And  what  hinders  ?  A  word  will  tell  all.  The  fear  of 
shame.  The  love  of  gaiety.  The  fascinations  of  amuse- 
ment— all  temporary,  unsatisfactory,  dying.  A  scheme 
of  ambition ;  a  plan  of  gain ;  an  arrangement  for  plea- 
sure— all  valueless  when  compared  with  heaven.  For 
such  things  the  ear  is  turned  away,  and  the  voice  inviting 
to  heaven  is  unheeded.  0,  how  deluded  !  To  suffer  the 
.great  interests  of  eternity  to  be  neglected,  and  the  immor- 
tal welfare  of  the  soul  to  be  hazarded  for  nameless  trifles  ! 
Of  the  folly  of  this  course  I  could  say  much.  But  why 
should  I  say  any  thing  ?  Who  does  not  see  it  ?  I  will 
make,  therefore,  but  one  other  observation,  and  then  close. 
The  river  of  life  will  roll  on  forever.  Its  pure 
waters,  clear  as  crystal,  shall  forever  gladden  and  refresh 
the  inhabitants  of  heaven.  But  on  the  banks  of  that 
river  you  may  never  recline.  Far  away  from  that  pure 
stream — far  away  from  all  the  bliss  of  heaven — far  away 
from  the  redeemed  and  happy  throng  assembled  there, 
shall  be  your  eternal  abode,  and  never  again  shall  you 
hear  the  invitation,  "  Whosoever  will,  let  him  come  and 
take  the  water  of  life  freely."  To-day,  all  the  universe 
invites  you.  The  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Spirit,  say, 
"  Come."  The  church  on  earth  and  the  church  redeemed 
say,  "  Come."  The  friend  that  has  gone  to  the  skies,  and 
the  friend  on  earth,  says,  "  Come."     The  tender  father ; 


24  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  afFectionate  mother ;  the  pastor ;  the  brother ;  the 
sister,  all  say,  "  Come."  Your  own  natm^e  ;  your  con- 
viction of  the  truth ;  your  sense  of  sin  ;  your  dread  of 
death  ;  your  inextinguishable  desire  of  immortality  ;  your 
conviction  that  "  this  world  can  never  give  the  bliss  for 
which  you  sigh," — all  these  emotions  and  feelings  say, 
"  Come."  The  whole  universe  joins  in  the  invitation, 
and  voices  from  distant  worlds  mingle  in  this  sanctuary 
to-day,  saying  to  you  now,  "  Come,  take  the  water  of 
life  freely."  To-morrow,  0  how  changed  may  be  the 
scene  I  Death's  cold  fingers  may  have  felt  after  the  strings 
of  life,  and  chilled  them,  and  your  soul  may  be  beyond 
hope  and  lieaven.  Not  a  voice  from  all  the  universe  may 
invite  you  to  leave  the  dark  abodes  where  the  wicked 
dwell,  and  to  take  the  waters  of  life.  0  that  word, 
^FREE  salvation!' — What  would  you  give  to  hear  it 
borne  on  the  breeze  in  the  world  of  despair !  But  it  will 
be  too  late.  Sealed  will  be  the  lips  of  the  eternal  Father ; 
hushed  the  voice  of  the  Redeemer ;  gone  the  influences 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  bride — the  church — will  have 
ceased  to  invite  ;  and  neither  father,  nor  mother,  nor  bro- 
ther, nor  sister,  nor  pastor,  nor  friend,  Avill  ever  say  to 
you  again,  "  Come,  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 


SERMON  II. 

THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR. 

John  iii.  16.  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten 
Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  ever- 
lasting life. 

These  are  the  words  of  the  Redeemer.  They  express 
ill  the  briefest  space  the  substance  of  the  gospel.  No 
pubUc  speaker  ever  possessed  the  power  of  condensing 
the  great  principles  of  a  system  of  truth  into  so  narrow 
a  compass  as  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  and  his  instructions  abound 
v/ith  instances  of  this  condensation.  Such  declarations 
were  easily  treasured  up  in  the  memory,  and  were,  there- 
fore, eminently  adapted  to  the  end  which  he  had  in  view 
—the  instruction  and  salvation  of  the  mass  of  mankind. 
The  terms  of  the  text  require  no  particular  exposition ; 
and  we  shall  proceed  at  once  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  great  truths  which  in  so  simple  language  it  embodies. 
It  affirms  that  the  origin  of  the  plan  of  salvation  was  the 
love  of  God ;  that  tliat  love  was  of  the  highest  degree — ■ 
leading  him  to  the  gift  of  his  only  begotten  Son ;  and 
that  it  was  of  the  widest  extent — embracing  the  world. 
Vie  shall  consider  these  points  in  their  order ;  and  shall 
thus  have  before  us  the  outlines  of  the  great  system  of 
the  gospel.  I  do  not  suppose  that  it  will  be  new  to  you. 
I  have  no  truths,  and  perhaps  no  illustrations,  which  you 
have  not  often  contemplated  before.  I  present  a  system, 
however,  on  which,  whether  it  be  to  you  ncAV  or  old, 
your  eternal  welfare  depends ;  and  which  every  consi- 
deration of  gratitude,  of  self-interest,  of  obligation,  and 
of  hope,  calls  on  you  to  embrace  and  love. 

I.  The  first  proposition  is,  that  the  plan  of  salvation 
originated  in  the  love  of  God.  "  God  so  loved  the  world, 
that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son.'^  This  idea,  so  simple 
in  appearance,  is  at  the  basis  of  all  just  views  of  religion, 
and  strikes  far  into  different  systems,  and  will  modify  or 


26  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

control  them.  The  following  remarks,  in  illustration  of 
it,  will  convey  to  you  the  thoughts  which  I  wish  to  have 
impressed  on  your  minds. 

The  idea  that  God  is  a  God  of  love,  is  not  one  that  is 
very  extensively  embraced  by  mankind.  Large  classes 
of  mankind  suppose  that  if  God  were  a  benevolent  being, 
he  would  have  made  a  world  perfectly  happy  and  pure ; 
and  the  fact  that  sin  and  misery  so  extensively  prevail, 
is,  in  their  view,  wholly  at  war  with  such  a  proposition. 
To  them  it  furnishes  no  proof  of  his  goodness  that  he 
provides  remedies  and  means  of  deliverance  from  these 
evils,  but  they  ask  why  was  not  the  evil  itself  prevented, 
and  why  was  there  a  necessity  for  a  remedy  ?  A  man  is 
sick,  and  we  tell  him  that  the  fact  that  remedies  are  pro- 
vided for  the  various  maladies  which  afflict  the  body,  is 
a  proof  of  goodness,  and  he  at  once  turns  upon  us  in 
a  manner  which  we  cannot  well  meet,  and  asks  why  was 
not  the  sickness  itself  prevented  ?  Why  was  there  need 
of  a  remedy  ?  Would  not  higher  benevolence  have  been 
evinced  had  pleurisies,  and  palsies,  and  fevers,  and  con- 
sumptions been  unknown  ?  Why,  he  asks,  was  a  system 
formed  ever  requiring  such  a  device  as  that  of  a  remedy ; 
why  one  that  needs  mending  and  repairing;  why  one 
that  was  not  perfect  without  the  toil  and  expense  of 
mitigating  evils,  and  repairing  wastes?  And  this  man 
leaves  us,  after  all  that  we  can  say,  with  the  feeling  that 
the  proof  is  very  imperfect  that  God  is  a  God  of  love ; 
and  on  such  a  mind  the  proposition  that  he  so  loved  the 
world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  falls  with  little 
force.  He  feels,  perhaps,  in  spite  of  himself,  that  hack 
of  all  this  there  is  something  in  the  divine  bosom  that  is 
remote  from  the  proper  exercise  of  love,  and  that  a  dying 
and  a  suffering  world  is  fitted  to  neutralize  all  the  argu- 
ment for  benevolence  which  can  be  drawn  from  a  reme- 
dial system. 

On  another  class  of  minds  the  same  result  is  produced 
by  a  different  train  of  thought ;  a  train  of  thought  that  is 
sometimes  countenanced,  I  fear,  by  prevalent  views  in 
theology.  With  such  minds  the  supposition  is,  that  the 
Bible  teaches  that  God  is  originally  a  stern  and  inexorable 
being ;  that  the  attribute  of  justice  is  the  central  and  con- 
trolling attribute  of  his  character ;  that  in  his  nature  all 


THE  LOVE  OP  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OP  A  SAVIOUR.        27 

is  dark,  repulsive,  and  cold ;  that  he  is  indisposed  to  par- 
don, unrelenting  in  his  claims,  severe  in  his  adjudications, 
and  by  nature  deaf  to  the  cry  of  the  suffering  and  the 
penitent.  That  sustaining  this  character,  and  with  these 
feelings,  one  more  mild  and  kind  than  he  has  consented 
to  become  incarnate,  and  to  suffer  the  unrelenting  penalty 
of  the  law,  in  order,  as  a  primary  part  of  his  work,  to 
make  God  kind  and  forgiving.  That  whatever  inclina- 
tion to  mercy  there  may  be  now  in  the  character  of  God, 
it  is  the  result  of  purchase ;  that  he  is  disposed  to  bestow 
only  so  much  pardon  as  is  bought ;  that  towards  a  part 
of  the  human  race,  as  the  result  of  that  purchase,  he  is 
now  mild  and  benignant,  and  that  towards  the  unhappy 
remainder  the  original  sternness  of  his  character  is  un- 
mitigated, and  that  even  the  sufferings  of  the  atonement 
have  not  relaxed  the  rigidity  of  his  justice  in  regard  to 
them.  The  feeling  is,  that  God  is  now  a  different  being 
from  what  he  was  before  the  atonement  was  made,  and 
that  he  has  been  made  mild  and  forgiving  by  the  sacri- 
fice on  the  cross. 

Now,  in  opposition  to  these  views,  reflecting  so  much 
on  the  character  of  God,  my  text  teaches  that  he  was  ori- 
ginally disposed  to  show  mercy.  His  benevolence  in 
the  plan  of  salvation  lies  back  of  the  gift  of  a  Saviour, 
and  prompted  to  it.  It  was  love  on  the  part  of  the 
eternal  Father  that  led  him  to  give  his  Son  to  die,  no  less 
than  love  on  the  part  of  the  Son  to  come — and  the  one 
was  no  more  purchased  than  the  other.  The  gift  of  the 
Saviour  was  just  the  expression,  or  the  exponent  of  that 
love ;  and  the  magnitude  of  the  gift  was  the  measure  of 
the  original  love  of  God.  As  this  idea  is  the  essential 
thought  in  my  text,  and  as  the  view  which  is  taken  of 
it  will  control  all  our  views  of  the  plan  of  salvation,  I 
may  be  permitted  to  ask  your  attention  to  a  remark  or 
two  to  illustrate  it. 

(1.)  We  do  not  suppose  that  any  change  has  been 
wrought  in  the  character  of  God  by  the  plan  of  salvation, 
or  by  the  work  of  the  atonement.  We  do  not  believe 
that  any  change  could  be  produced  in  his  character ;  we 
do  not  believe  that  it  is  desirable  that  there  should  be. 
We  suppose  that  God  was  just  as  worthy  of  the  love 
and  confidence  of  his  creatures  before  the  atonement  was 


28  PRACTICAL    SEIIMONS. 

made  as  he  is  now,  or  ever  will  be  ;  and  that  every  attri- 
bute of  his  character  was  just  as  lovely  then  as  it  is  now. 
He  is  no  more  merciful  now  than  he  was  from  all  eter- 
nity ;  and  he  Avas  no  more  stern  in  his  character  then 
than  he  is  now,  and  always  will  be.  The  incorrigible  and 
the  finally  impenitent  sinner  has  no  more  reason  to  hope 
for  exemption  from  deserved  wrath  now  than  he  had  be- 
fore Christ  came  ;  and  the  angels  in  heaven  gather  around 
him  with  no  more  real  confidence  and  love  than  they  did 
before.  The  doctrine  of  the  unchangeableness  of  God  is 
the  foundation  of  all  our  hopes  ;  nor  could  the  affairs  of 
the  universe  move  on  one  moment  securely,  unless  it 
was  exactly  true  that  with  God  there  is  "  no  variableness 
or  shadow  of  turning." 

(2.)  We  suppose  that  God  was  originally  so  full  of 
mercy,  and  so  disposed  to  pardon  sinners,  that  in  order 
to  do  it  he  was  willing  to  stoop  to  any  sacrifice  except 
that  of  truth  and  justice,  and  that  therefore  he  sent  his 
Son  to  die.  The  race  was  in  fact  lost  and  ruined.  The 
world  was  full  of  sinners  and  full  of  sufferers.  But  we 
do  not  suppose  that  compassion  towards  them  has  been 
pinxhased,  but  that  it  was  originally  so  great  that  he 
was  willing  to  stoop  to  sacrifice  in  order  to  rescue  and 
save  them. — A  father  has  a  beloved  son.  He  embarks 
on  the  ocean  in  the  pursuits  of  commerce,  and  falls  into 
the  hands  of  an  Algerine  pirate.  He  is  chained,  and 
di'iven  to  the  slave  market,  and  sold,  and  conveyed  over 
burning  sands  as  a  slave,  and  pines  in  hopeless  bondage. 
The  news  of  this  reaches  the  ears  of  the  father.  What 
will  be  his  emotions  ?  Will  the  sufferings  of  that  son 
make  a  change  in  his  cha,racter  ?  If  required,  he  would 
gather  up  his  silver,  and  his  gold,  and  his  pearls,  and 
leave  his  own  home,  and  cross  the  ocean,  and  make  his 
way  over  the  burning  sands,  that  he  might  find  out  and 
ransom  the  captive.  But  think  you  he  would  be  a  dif- 
ferent man  novr  from  what  he  was  ?  Has  the  captivity 
of  that  son  made  a  change  in  him }  No.  His  sufferings 
have  called  out  the  original  tenderness  of  his  bosom,  and 
have  merely  developed  what  he  was.  He  so  loved  that 
child  that  the  forsaking  of  his  own  home,  and  the  perils 
of  the  ocean,  and  the  journey  over  burning  sands,  were 
regarded  as  of  no  consequence  if  he  could  seek  out  and 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR.         29 

save  him.  These  sacrifices  and  toils  would  be  trifles,  if 
he  might  again  press  his  lost  son  to  his  bosom,  and  restore 
him  to  his  desolate  home.  It  is  the  love — the  strong 
original  love  m  his  bosom,  that  prompts  to  the  sacrifice, 
and  that  makes  toil  and  peril  welcome.  So  of  God. 
Such  was  his  original  love  for  man,  that  he  was  willing 
to  stoop  to  any  sacrifice  to  save  him ;  and  the  gift  of  a 
Saviour  was  the  mere  expression  of  that  love. 

(3.)  But  now  to  make  this  case  more  analogous  to  the 
plan  of  salvation,  and  to  show  more  of  the  real  difficulty, 
suppose  the  rescue  of  that  child  should  in  some  way 
involve  the  consequence  of  doing  injustice  to  others.  Sup- 
pose it  should  take  the  father  away  from  his  own  family, 
and  expose  them  to  a  similar  danger.  Suppose  it  should 
involve  the  necessity  of  his  acknowledging  the  right  of 
the  captor,  or  in  some  way  make  it  necessary  to  expose 
his  own  character  to  a  charge  of  injustice,  or  of  false- 
hood— the  difficulty  in  the  case  would  bo  vastly  increased, 
and  the  strong  love  of  the  father  would  be  more  strik- 
ingly shown  if  he  should  seek  to  remove  this  difficulty 
at  the  same  time  that  he  should  save  his  enslaved  son. 
This  was  the  great  work  which  rendered  the  plan  of 
salvation  so  difficult  and  so  glorious.  It  was  not  merely 
to  save  man,  but  it  was  at  the  same  time  to  save  the  cha- 
racter, and  name,  and  government  of  God.  It  was  to  show 
that  he  was  "just,"  though  he  "'justified  the  ungodly;'^ 
and  true,  though  the  sinner  should  not  die.  It  was  to 
show  his  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  pardoned  it ;  and  his  truth,  at  the  same  time  that  the 
threatened  penalty  was  remitted.  This  could  be  done 
only  by  allowing  his  son  to  be  treated  as  if  he  were  a  sin- 
ner, in  order  to  treat  the  really  guilty  as  if  they  were 
righteous ;  and  so  to  identify  the  one  with  the  other,  that 
it  might  be  adjudged  that  the  law  was  as  really  satisfied 
as  though  they  had  themselves  borne  the  penalty.  It 
was  not  merely,  therefore,  the  gift  of  a  Saviour  that  was 
the  expression  of  love,  it  was  giving  him  so  as  to  remove 
all  the  obstacles  on  his  part  to  pardon,  and  making  de- 
signed arrangements  so  as  to  preserve  his  own  honor 
untarnished,  and  to  secure  the  undiminished  confidence 
of  the  universe. 

The  essential  idea  which  I  have  now  aimed  to  exhibit. 


so  PKACTICAL    SERMOIS'&'. 

is,  that  the  love  and  mercy  of  God  in  the  plan  of  salva- 
tion lie  hack  of  the  gift  of  a  Saviour.  They  are  not 
new  attributes  which  have  started  up  in  the  divine  mind 
in  consequence  of  the  work  of  redemption.  The  mercy 
of  God  has  not  been  purchased^  and  the  character  of  God 
has  not  been  changed.  God  is  the  same  being  now  that 
he  always  was,  and  he  will  ahvays  remain  unchangeably 
the  same.  No  new  attribute  has  been  created  ;  none  has 
been  modified.  The  gift  of  a  Saviour  was  just  the  ex- 
pression of  the  original  and  eternal  love  of  God ;  and  is 
just  one  of  the  overflowing  manifestations  of  benevolence 
in  the  divine  mind.  It  is  not  to  make  a  change  in  God ; 
it  is  not  to  make  an  inexorable  being  mild ;  it  is  not  to 
make  God  more  lovely  than  he  was.  It  is  true,  that  in 
consequence  of  this,  he  appears  more  lovely  than  he 
would  otherwise  have  done — since  every  new  develop- 
ment of  his  character  lays  the  foundation  of  an  increased 
obligation  to  love  him.  But  still  the  essential  idea  before 
us  is,  that  he  was  originally  and  eternally  disposed  \o 
show  mercy  ;  and  that  the  gift  of  a  Saviour  was  just  the 
expression  of  his  love.  "  He  so  loved  the  world  that  he 
gave  his  only  begotten  Son." 

II.  My  second  object  was  to  show  that  the  expression 
of  his  love  was  the  highest  that  it  possibly  could  be. 
This  is  evidently  implied  in  the  text :  '^  God  so  loved  the 
world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son.^^  In  illus- 
trating this  point,  I  would  observe — 

(1.)  That  such  a  gift  is  the  highest  conceivable  gift 
among  men,  and  the  Saviour  evidently  means  to  say  that 
the  same  thing  is  true  of  God.  The  Bible  is  as  far  as 
possible  from  representing  God  as  without  feeling  or 
emotion.  In  the  Bible  he  has  the  attributes  of  a  tender 
and  kind  Father ;  though  in  our  philosophy  and  our  theo- 
logy, in  our  hearts  and  affections,  we  make  him  a  difierent 
being  by  far  from  what  he  is  as  revealed  to  be  in  the 
Scriptures.  Among  men  he  is  esteemed  to  be  a  cold 
and  distant  being ;  regardless,  to  a  great  extent,  of  the 
wants  and  woes  of  the  race ;  seated  in  the  far-distant 
heavens,  and  unconcerned  in  what  occurs  among  men ; 
stern,  and  repulsive,  and  inapproachable,  and  severe. — 
But  this  is  not  the  God  of  the  Bible.  There  he  is  repre- 
sented as  a  Father.     He  is  tender,  compassionate,  and 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR.    31 

kind.  He  loves  his  creatures  though  erring ;  he  seeks 
their  welfare  though  fallen.  He  is  interested  for  their 
good ;  and  he  makes  sacrifices — sacrifices  in  some  proper 
sense — for  their  salvation.  It  is  not  trope  and  metaphor 
merely,  when  he  speaks  of  himself  as  a  Father,  and  as 
a  compassionate  God.  He  loves  when  he  says  he  loves ; 
pities  when  he  says  he  pities ;  compassionates  when  he 
says  he  compassionates;  and  hates  when  he  says  he 
hates.  He  is  the  living  and  the  compassionate  God — not 
a  cold  creation  of  the  imagination  ;  he  is  a  Father — not 
the  repulsive  and  distant  being  dreaded  if  not  hated  by 
the  stoic. 

Now  we  have  no  higher  conception  of  the  love  of  a 
father  than  that  he  should  give  up  his  son  to  die.  It  is 
the  last  oiFering  which  he  could  make ;  and  beyond  this 
there  is  nothing  that  we  can  expect.  When  a  man  bids 
his  only  son  go  into  the  tented  field,  a.nd  expose  his  life 
for  his  country,  and  with  every  prospect  that  he  will  die 
for  its  welfare,  it  is  the  highest  expression  of  attachment 
for  that  country.  Man  has  no  possessions  so  valuable 
that  he  would  not  give  them  all  to  save  the  life  of  his 
son ;  and  when  he  yields  up  his  son  in  any  cause,  he  has 
shown  for  it  the  highest  love.  It  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive of  a  higher  expression  of  love,  if  it  could  be  done, 
than  for  a  man  on  the  bench,  whose  ofiice  required  him 
to  condemn  the  guilty  to  death,  to  be  willing  to  substitute 
his  own  son  on  the  gallows,  and  bid  the  murderer  go  free. 

When  we  speak  of  the  love  of  God  to  Jesus  Christ, 
and  of  his  sacrifice  and  self-denial,  it  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood as  a  matter  of  form  or  metaphor.  It  is  not  the  use 
of  words  without  sense.  The  love  of  God  to  the  Re- 
deemer is  not  the  same  kind  of  love  which  he  has  to  the 
sun  and  stars  ;  to  the  rivers  and  hills ;  to  diamonds,  and 
gold,  and  pearls ;  to  the  lily  and  the  rose  which  he  has 
made ;  or  to  the  pjigelic  hosts  around  his  throne.  The 
love  of  God  for  a  holy  man  like  Abraham,  Isaiah,  and 
Paul,  is  true  and  genuine  attachment.  The  love  of 
God  to  a  holy  and  unfallen  angel  is  real  attachment.  It 
is  attachment  to  mind,  and  heart,  and  purity — and  is  not 
a  name.  But  the  love  to  Christ  Jesus  is  peculiar.  No 
other  one  sustained  the  relation  to  God  which  he  did. 
No  man  had  been  so  holy ;  no  angel  sustained  such  a 


32  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

rank.  He  was  the  equal  with  the  Father — yet  incarnate  ; 
and  the  love  of  God  to  Christ  was  the  love  of  himself. 
The  Redeemer  was  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the 
express  image  of  his  person ;  and  he  alone  had  joined 
the  divinity  with  manhood,  and  expressed  in  his  power, 
and  wisdom,  and  hoUness,  the  exact  image  of  God.  To 
give  him  was  more  than  to  give  an  angel — than  all  an- 
gels. It  was  to  God  what  it  would  be  for  man  to  give 
up  an  only  son.  I  know  the  difficulty  of  forming  an 
adequate  conception  of  this ;  but  having  settled  in  my 
mind  the  full  belief  that  the  Bible  is  true,  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  the  representation  that  there  was  real  love  in 
the  gift  of  a  Saviour  is  to  be  frittered  away,  or  that  the 
solemn  declarations  which  abound  there  expressing  the 
same  idea  as  my  text,  are  unmeaning.  See  a  man  sit 
on  the  bench  of  justice.  See  a  prisoner  arraigned  on  a 
charge  of  treason.  See  the  solemn  and  just  progress  of 
the  trial,  until  the  man  stands  condemned,  and  the  sen- 
tence of  the  law  is  about  to  fall  on  him.  *  He  is  guilty,' 
says  the  judge,  '  no  man  can  vindicate  him ;  no  man  can 
stay  the  regular  operation  of  the  law  but  myself.  There 
stands  my  son — my  only  son — my  hope,  my  stay.  Officer, 
bind  him.  Lay  him  on  the  hurdle.  Drag  him  to  the 
place  of  death,  and  let  his  quartered  body  show  to  the 
nation  that  I  hate  the  crime.'  If  this  could  be,  who 
would  doubt  the  greatness  of  the  love  ?  When  God  says 
that  this  did  exist  in  his  case,  who  shall  doubt  that  he 
loved  the  guilty  and  the  lost  ? 

(2.)  But  no  man  has  ever  manifested  such  love  as  this. 
If  the  opportunity  has  ever  occurred,  it  has  not  been  em- 
braced ;  should  it  occur  often,  it  would  not  be  embraced. 
Man  would  shrink  from  it.  In  a  few  instances  one  man 
has  been  willing  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  a  friend ;  and  not 
a  few  fathers  and  mothers  have  been  willing  to  endanger 
their  lives  for  the  welfare  of  a  son  or  daughter.  But 
the  instance  has  never  yet  occurred  where  a  man  was 
willing  to  give  his  own  life,  or  the  life  of  a  child,  for  an 
enemy.  No  monarch  on  the  throne  has  ever  thought  of 
giving  the  heir  to  his  crown  to  die  for  a  traitor,  or  for  a 
rebellious  province ;  and  amidst  the  multitudes  of  treasons 
which  have  occurred,  it  has  never,  probably,  for  one  in- 
stant crossed  the  bosom  of  the   offended  sovereign  to 


THE  LOVE   OF  GOD  IN  THE   GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR.         33 

suppose  that  such  a  thing  was  possible ;  and  if  it  had 
occurred  it  would  have  been  at  once  dismissed  as  not 
worth  more  than  a  passing  thought.  No  magistrate  has 
ever  lived  avIio  would  have  been  willing  to  sentence  his 
own  son  to  the  gallows  in  place  of  the  guilty  wretch 
Avhom  it  was  his  duty  to  sentence  to  death.  Not  an  in- 
stance has  ever  occurred  in  our  own  country — rich  as  it 
is  in  examples  of  benignity  and  kindness — in  which  a 
judge  on  the  bench  would  have  been  willing  to  commute 
a  punishment  in  this  manner,  if  it  had  been  in  strict  ac- 
cordance with  equity  and  law ;  and  probably  the  records 
of  all  nations  might  be  searched  in  vain  for  such  an  in- 
stance. We  know  that  monarchs  often  feel,  and  that 
magistrates  are  not  destitute  of  a  tender  heart,  and  that 
the  man  on  the  bench,  v/ho  passes  the  severe  sentence  of 
the  law,  often  does  it  in  tears.  The  present  king  of  France 
passes  every  night  to  a  late  hour  in  carefully  examining 
the  cases  of  those  who  are  condemned  to  death,  and  in 
the  silence  of  the  night-watches  ponders  all  the  reasons 
why  a  pardon  should  be  extended  in  au}^  case,  and  often 
with  a  heavy  heart  signs  the  warrant  for  death ;  and 
Washington  wept  when  his  duty  constrained  hiin  to  ap- 
prove the  sentence  which  doomed  the  accompliyhcd 
Andre  to  the  gallows  ;  but  would  these  feelings  in  either 
instance,  or  in  any  histance,  prompt  to  the  surrender  of  a 
son — an  only  son — to  the  disgrace  of  the  gibbet  to  save 
the  spy  or  the  traitor  ?  W^e  are  saying  nothing  in  dispa- 
ragement of  such  men — for  they  are  but  men,  and  not 
God — when  we  say  that  their  feelings  of  compassion 
have  made  no  approach  to  such  a  sacrifice.  Their  deep 
emotions ;  their  tears ;  their  genuine  sorrov/ ;  their  un- 
affected and  noble  benevolence — though  an  lienor  to  our 
nature — have  not  approached  the  question  whether  such 
a  sacrifice  was  possible  or  proper ;  and  we  may  add,  it 
is  not  to  be  approached  in  this  world.  The  nearest  ap- 
proach of  which  I  have  ever  heard  to  any  thing  like  this 
feeling,  was  in  the  pathetic  wish  of  David  that  he  had 
himself  been  permitted  to  die  in  the  place  of  a  rebellious 
and  ungrateful  son.  "  0,  my  son,  Absalom  !  my  son, 
my  son  Absalom,  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  0  Ab- 
salom, my  son,  my  son  !"  2  Kings  xviii.  33.  Strong  was 
that  love  which  would  lead  a  monarch  and  a  father  to 


34  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

be  willing  to  die  for  such  a  son ;  but  how  far  removed 
still  from  the  love  which  vv^ould  lead  to  the  sacrifice  of  a 
son  for  the  guilty  and  the  vile  ! 

But "  God  commendeth  his  love  toward  us  in  that  while 
we  were  yet  sinners,  in  due  time  Christ  died  for  us. 
Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved 
us,  and  gave  his  Son  to  die  for  us."  And  such  a  death  ! 
It  stands  by  itself — a  death  of  unequalled  shame  and 
woes.  To  be  treated  as  a  malefactor  ;  to  be  rejected  and 
reviled ;  to  take  the  vacated  place  of  a  murderer ;  to  be 
subjected  to  lingering  torture ;  to  be  nailed  to  a  cross — 
yes,  nailed  there  to  hang  suspended  till  death  should  end 
the  scene  ;  to  endure  through  six  long  hours  the  pangs 
of  crucifixion ;  to  endure  reproach,  and  scorn,  and  con- 
tempt, and  mockery,  even  on  the  cross — a  place  where, 
if  any  where,  compassion  should  be  shown,  and  where 
mockery  should  cease ;  to  be  willing  to  endure  all  this 
voluntarily,  this  was  the  love  of  Christ. 

Every  thing  about  the  scene  on  Calvary  fills  me  with 
amazement.  I  cannot  understand  it;  it  is  all — all  so 
unlike  man.  The  gift  of  such  a  Saviour ;  the  patience 
of  the  sufferer;  the  forbearance  of  God;  the  fact  that 
no  thunder  rolls,  and  no  lightnings  flash,  to  strike  the 
crucifi.ers  of  his  Son  in  death ;  the  fact  that  no  angelic 
legion  appears  to  seize  and  bear  him  away  from  the 
cross ;  the  fact  that  in  that  unnatural  night  no  angel  of 
death  goes,  as  through  the  hosts  of  Sennacherib,  to  smite 
the  murderers ;  the  fact  that  he  lingers  on,  and  lingers 
on — while  the  blood  flows  drop  by  drop,  and  stains  the 
tree,  and  his  body,  and  the  ground,  until  life  wears  away 
— and  he  dies  !  0,  it  is  wonderful.  It  stands  alone  ;  and 
/  desire  to  stand  alone — to  close  the  eye  on  all  other 
scenes  of  love  and  suflering,  and  look  there  till  my  heart 
is  full,  and  I  learn  the  height,  and  depth,  and  length,  and 
breadth  of  the  love  of  God.  And  there,  too,  I  desire  to 
tell  my  fellow-sinners  that  this  is  love — the  love  which 
God  had  for  this  world.  It  is  not  in  the  glorious  sun  that 
rides  in  the  heavens,  or  the  silent  and  solemn  march  of 
the  stars  at  night,  that  I  most  see  his  love ;  it  is  not  in 
the  running  stream,  and  the  landscape,  and  the  songs  in 
the  groves;  it  is  not  in  bird,  beast,  or  dewy  morn,  or 
grateful  evening  mild;  it  is  on  Calvary, and  in  the  sufferings 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR.  35 

there.  There  all  is  love — love  unknown,  unthought  of 
elsewhere ;  love  that  fills  my  eyes  with  tears,  and  my 
heart  with  overflowing  gratitude,  and  my  soul  with 
peace. 

0  for  this  love,  let  rocks  and  hills 

Their  lasting  silence  break, 
And  all  harmonious  human  tongues 

The  Saviour's  praises  speak. 

Yes,  we  will  praise  thee,  dearest  Lord, 

Our  souls  are  all  on  flame ; 
Hosanna  round  the  spacious  earth, 

To  thine  adored  name. 

Angels,  assist  our  mighty  joys, 

Strike  all  your  harps  of  gold; 
But  when  you  raise  your  highest  notes, 

His  love  can  ne'er  be  told. 

III.  I  proposed,  in  the  third  place,  to  consider  the  ex- 
tent of  this  love.  It  v/as  for  '^  the  v/orld."  This  is  the 
idea  which  I  desire  to  illustrate. 

(1.)  It  was  for  no  part  of  the  world  considered  as  elect 
or  chosen,  in  contradistinction  from  the  non-elect  or  the 
reprobate. — I  hold  to  the  doctrine  of  election  as  a  pre- 
cious doctrine  of  the  Bible,  and  I  have  no  other  hope  of 
the  salvation  of  man  than  in  that  doctrine.  I  preach 
only  because  I  believe  God  has  a  purpose  of  mercy ;  and 
were  it  not  that  I  believe  that  he  will  attend  his  message 
with  his  special  grace,  and  in  accordance  with  an  eternal 
purpose,  I  should  close  this  Bible  and  leave  this  pulpit  in 
despair.  But  when  I  look  at  the  v/ork  of  the  atonement, 
I  look  at  a  grand  and  glorious  transaction  that  lies  hack^ 
in  the  order  of  nature,  of  the  purpose  of  election,  and 
that  in  its  original  applicability  is  limited  by  no  design  of 
God.  It  is  for  the  world — '  that  whosoever  believeth  may 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.'  I  see  in  it  a  work 
designed  to  show  the  benignity  of  God  ;  showing  how 
God  can  be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier  of  him  that  believ- 
eth ;  how  he  can  maintain  his  truth  and  yet  forgive  ;  how 
he  can  welcome  rebels  to  his  itivor  and  yet  show  that  he 
hates  their  sins ;  how  he  can  admit  them  to  the  fellow- 
ship of  angels,  and  yet  not  have  them  revolt  at  the  ac- 
cession to  their  number,  or  lose  their  confidence  in  God, 
as  if  he  were  disposed  to  treat  the  evil  and  the  good  alike. 


36  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

And  I  love  to  contemplate  it  as  it  stands  in  its  original 
glory — as  it  is  an  emanation  of  the  divine  goodness.  I 
love  to  contemplate  it,  not  in  reference  to  the  compara- 
tively narrow  question  of  selfishness,  '  who  shall  or  who 
shall  not  be  saved' ;  not  narrowed  down  by  a  reference 
to  a  sordid  commercial  transaction  of  debt  and  purchase ; 
but  with  reference  to  the  display  of  the  divine  perfec- 
tions— the  exhibition  of  the  mercy  and  the  goodness  of 
God.  So  I  love  to  stand  on  the  shore  of  the  ocean, 
while  surge  after  surge  breaks  at  my  feet ;  and  the  blue 
expanse  stretches  out  inimitably  before  me ;  and  ships 
ride  proudly  over  the  deep,  and  to  contemplate  it  not 
with  reference  to  the  question  whether  it  will  safely  bear 
a  cargo  of  jjiijie  across  it  or  not,  but  as  a  glorious  exhi- 
bition of  the  power  and  greatness  of  God.  So  I  love  to 
stand  on  some  eminence,  and  look  down  upon  the  land- 
scape, and  to  survey  the  spreading  forests,  and  the  river, 
and  tlie  fields,  and  the  water-falls,  and  the  villages,  and 
the  churches,  not  with  the  narrow  inquiry,  '  what  is  all 
this  worth ;'  but  wliat  a  view  is  there  here  of  the  good- 
ness of  God,  and  the  greatness  of  his  compassion  to  the 
children  of  men !  So  I  stand  at  Niagara,  and  as  God 
"  pours"  tlie  water  *•  from  his  hollow  hand,"  and  the 
soul  is  filled  with  emotions  of  unutterable  sublimit}^,  I 
Vv'ill  not  ask  Vi^hat  is  all  this  worth ^6'?-  a  mill-seat,  but  I 
will  allow  the  scene  to  lift  my  soul  up  to  God ;  to  teach 
me  lessons  of  his  power  and  greatness,  and  to  show  me 
the  littleness  of  all  that  man  can  do.  And  so  I  will  look 
on  the  glorious  work  of  the  atonement.  I  will  look  at 
it  BACK  of  the  question  wiio  is,  or  who  is  not,  to  be  bene- 
fitted by  it.  I  v/ill  ask  vv^hat  ncAv  manifestation  there  is 
in  it  of  the  character  of  God ;  what  is  there  to  elevate 
the  soul ;  what  is  there  to  make  me  think  more  highly 
of  the  love,  the  truth,  and  the  justice  of  my  JN'Iaker  ; 
what  is  tliere  to  expand  the  soul,  and  to  elevate  it  above 
the  sordid  views  and  the  grovehng  propensities  of  this 
world  ? 

(2.)  It  was  for  "  the  world."  It  was,  therefore,  for  no 
rank,  or  caste  among  men.  It  was  not  for  any  order  of 
men,  favored  by  blood,  or  rank,  or  office,  or  name.  There 
has  been  a  strong  tendency  every  where  to  exalt  one 
class  of  men  above  another  as  more  honored  by  birth 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR.         37 

and  by  heaven  than  others.  Hence  in  one  land  we  liave 
the  hereditary  aristocracy  of  caste,  sanctioned  by  all  the 
authority  of  rchgion,  and  enforced  by  all  the  power  de- 
rived  from  the  fact  that  it  runs  back  to  the  most  distant 
antiquity.  In  another  we  have  the  aristocracy  of  titled 
ranks,  founded  on  the  claims  of  some  illustrious  ances- 
tors, and  the  transmission  of  their  title  to  their  sons ;  and 
this  elevates  one  class  in  feeling  as  well  as  in  power 
above  the  humbler  ranks  of  mortals.  In  other  lands, 
where  these  distinctions  are  unknown,  there  is  a  constant 
tendency  to  create  some  permanent  distinctions  among 
the  different  orders  of  society,  and  where  it  cannot  be 
done  under  the  sanction  of  religion,  or  the  splendid  deeds 
of  an  honored  ancestry,  or  by  law,  to  create  it  by  the 
pride  of  wealth  and  family ;  by  the  distinction  of  color 
and  complexion;  by  the  difference  of  employment  or 
profession  ;  or  by  a  self-created  notion  of  ascendancy  in 
one  class  above  another. 

Now,  it  requires  all  the  power  of  the  truth  that  God 
^  LOVED  THE  world' — the  wholc  world — to  subdue  and 
control  this  pride  of  rank ;  that  he  did  not  die  for  nobles 
merely,  or  for  princes,  for  the  rich  or  the  honored,  but 
that  he  died  for  all ;  that  the  beggar  and  the  slave  had  a 
remembrance  iu  his  dying  love  as  well  as  the  monarch 
on  his  throne ;  and  that  if  men  are  saved,  they  must  be 
saved  as  companions  in  redemption,  as  they  iiave  been 
ill  guilt  and  in  exposure  to  death.  They  are  on  a  level. 
It  is  not  redemption  that  makes  them  so.  They  were  so 
before  ;  and  redemption  only  recognises  that  fact.  The 
same  blood  ilows  through  their  veins.  They  are  tainted  by 
the  same  original  corruption  of  sin.  They  are  destined  to 
endure  the  same  pangs  of  sickness  and  of  death,  and  they 
will  moulder  back  side  by  side  to  dust.  God  loved  the 
one  rank  as  much  as  the  other — the  monarch  on  the 
throne  as  much  as  the  beggar — and  no  more  ;  the  man 
of  wealth  as  much  as  the  man  of  poverty — a7id  no  more  ; 
the  man  who  by  his  talents  can  transmit  his  name  to 
future  times,  as  much  as  he  who  dies  and  is  at  once  for- 
gotten— and  no  more. 

(3.)  Finally,  it  was  for  the  world — the  whole  world. 
It  was  then  limited  in  its  design  to  no  color  or  complex- 
ion.    Here,  too,  there  is  a  strong  tendency  in  the  mind 

4 


38  PHACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  man  to  feel  that  color  and  complexion  give  some  pre- 
eminence. JNlen  on  this  found  their  right  to  bind,  and 
chain,  and  task  their  fellows,  and  exact  their  toil  with 
stripes.  They  kidnap  them,  and  convey  them,  amidst 
many  terrors,  to  distant  lands.  They  expose  them  for 
sale,  as  if  they  belonged  to  the  brute  creation.  They  ex- 
amine their  health,  and  their  strength,  and  their  sound- 
ness, as  they  do  the  animal  that  is  exposed  to  sale.  They 
buy  them  as  they  do  the  inferior  creation.  They  disre- 
gard the  ties  of  parentage  and  brotherhood;  of  blood 
and  of  affection,  as  if  they  were  a  trifle  or  a  name.  They 
whhhold  the  Bible,  as  if  they  had  no  immortal  nature ; 
and  they  shut  them  out  from  the  blessings  of  the  ever- 
lasting gospel,  as  if  death  was  the  end  of  consciousness 
and  the  extinguisher  of  being. 

Now,  it  requires  all  the  power  of  the  gospel  to  break 
down  and  annihilate  this  feeling,  and  to  make  us  realize 
that  he  with  a  different  skin  from  ours  is  a  brother — a 
brother  in  hope  as  well  as  in  sin.  We  had  one  father. 
We  have  one  nature.  We  have  one  God ;  one  Saviour. 
Beneath  that  less  attractive  external  form — less  attractive 
to  us,  but  not  to  God  ;  in  that  debased,  and  worn  down, 
and  crushed  human  frame — crushed  by  sorrow  and  by 
toil^there  dwells  an  immortal  spirit  that  might  be  pure 
like  an  angel ;  a  soul  worth  all  which  it  cost — and  it  could 
cost  no  more — in  redemption  ;  the  germ  of  endless  being  ; 
the  beginning  of  undying  life.  It  Vvdll  live  on,  and  live 
on,  when  kingdoms  shall  be  forgotten,  and  when  all  the 
proud  monuments  that  have  been  reared  by  oppressed 
and  purchased  sinews  shall  have  crumbled  back  to  dust. 
For  that  oppressed  and  broken  spirit  Christ  died.  That 
down-trodden  man  God  loved  when  he  loved  the  world, 
and  gave  his  only  begotten  Son  to  die.  And  I  love  to 
feel — and  will  feel ; — it  makes  me  love  the  gospel  more, 
and  the  Saviour  more,  that  for  the  red  man  of  the  forest 
Christ  died — whether  he  lingers  pensively  around  his 
fathers'  graves,  or  heaves  a  deep-drawn  sigh  as  he  looks 
on  the  stream  where  his  fathers  fished,  or  the  ample 
plains,  where,  in  the  elasticity  of  savage  life,  he  pursued 
the  game  of  the  forest ;  or  whether  forced  away  by  na- 
tional injustice,  and  by  the  violation  of  compacts,  he 
turns  his  back  sullenly  on  all  those  fair  lands,  and  goes 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  IN  THE  GIFT  OF  A  SAVIOUR.    39 

with  solitary  step  and  slow  to  the  setting  sun,  broken- 
hearted, to  lie  down  and  die.  And  I  love  to  feel,  and 
will  feel ; — it  makes  me  love  tlie  gospel  more,  and  the  Sa- 
viour more — that  for  the  black  man  of  Africa  he  died — 
whether  sunk  in  debasement  on  his  native  shores — the 
victim  of  degrading  superstition  there  ;  or  whether  borne 
a  captive  across  the  ocean,  and  bound  down  by  ignorance 
and  toil  in  Christian  lands.  He  is  a  man — an  immortal 
man — a  redeemed  man — and  not  a  chattel  or  a  thing. 
Christ  died  not  for  chattels  and  for  things  ;  he  died  for 
souls  ;  for  man  ;  for  immortal  minds  ;  for  Those  who  may 
yet  burst  every  shackle  and  every  bond,  and  range  the 
world  of  glory  as  immortal  freemen  there. 

In  conclusion,  I  mig!jt  remark,  were  there  time,  that 
the  gospel  should  be  preached  to  all  men — to  elect  and 
non-elect ;  to  rich  and  poor ;  to  bond  and  free.  No  man 
has  a  right  to  designate  ranks  and  classes,  when  he 
preaches  the  gospel.  He  who  does  not  sincerely  offer 
the  gospel  to  all  mo;i ;  who  has  mental  reservations  and 
drawbacks,  violates  his  commission,  and  dishonors  the 
gospel  and  its  author.  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and 
preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature,"  is  the  command ; 
and  this  is  to  rule  our  preaching,  and  to  govern  our  lives. 

The  gospel  is  to  be  preached  to  all  classes  of  men — to 
the  debased  and  down-trodden,  as  well  as  the  free  and 
the  elevated.  He  who  makes  an  arrangement  by  which 
any  class  of  men  is  excluded  from  the  gospel,  invades 
the  prerogative  of  God ;  prohibits  what  he  commands, 
and  exposes  himself  to  the  wrath  of  the  Almighty.  Any 
system  of  things  on  earth  which  prevents  the  fair  pro- 
mulgation of  the  gospel,  is  a  violation  of  the  arrange- 
ments of  heaven,  and  will,  sooner  or  later,  meet  with  the 
curse  of  the  JNIost  High.  It  is  itself  a  curse — a  wither- 
ing, a  blighting  curse  ;  and  on  it  heaven  will  never  smile. 

But  chietly  I  wished  to  say  to  one  class  of  this  audi- 
ence, that  all  along  in  life  you  have,  by  resisting  the  gos- 
pel, been  resisting  the  expressions  of  tender  love.  You 
know  what  I  mean.  When  you  stand  up  against  a  ty- 
rant, you  feel  that  you  are  right  in  resisting  him.  When 
you  draw  your  sword  against  an  aggressor,  you  feel  that 
you  are  right.  But  how  do  you  feel  when  you  resist  the 
kmdness  of  a  father,  and  shght  all  the  expressions  of  his 


40  IRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

love  for  you  ?  How  do  3^011  feel  when  3'^ou  have  broken 
a  mother's  heart,  and  when  all  the  expressions  of  her 
love  could  not  keep  you  from  the  ways  of  sin,  and  she 
died  of  grief?  0  then  the  scene,  the  fact  is  changed. 
There  is  guilt ;  and  there  the  heart  feels.  So  you  have 
resisted  God.  You  ha\^e  disregarded  his  love.  Your  life 
has  been  little  else  than  a  constant  resisting  of  the  ap- 
peals of  his  compassion.  His  love  in  redemption  you 
have  slighted,  and  his  offers  of  mercy  you  have  shunned. 
0,  the  cross,  the  cross  of  Christ !  0,  the  bleeding  victim 
there  !  0,  the  pangs  and  sorrows  of  tliat  dark  day  when 
he  died  !  How  it  shows  the  love  of  God — his  tenderness 
for  man— his  desire  that  he  should  be  saved  !  And  0, 
what  a  rock  is  the  human  heart  that  has  no  feeling,  when 
God's  incarnate  Son — the  beloved  of- heaven — hangs 
there  and  bleeds ;  is  forsaken  ;  is  pale  ;  is  exhausted  ;  is 
convulsed  in  agony — and  dies  ! 

Hearts  of  stone,  relent,  relent, 

Break,  by  Jesus'  cross  subdued  ; 
See  his  body,  mangled — rent, 

Covered  with  a  gore  of  blood  ; 
Sinful  soul,  what  hast  thou  done ! 
Murdered  God's  eternal  Son  I 

Yes,  our  sins  have  done  the  deed, 
Drove  the  nails  that  fixed  him  there; 

Crowned  with  thorns  his  sacred  head, 
Pierced  him  with  a  soldier's  spear ; 

Made  his  soul  a  sacrifice, 

For  a  sinful  world  he  dies. 

Will  you  let  him  die  in  vain  1 

Still  to  death  pursue  your  Lord  ? 
Open  tear  his  wounds  again, 

Trample  on  his  precious  blood  ? 
No  !    With  all  my  sins  I'll  part ; 
Saviour,  take  my  broken  heart. 


SERMON    III. 

WHY    WILL    YE    DIE? 

Ezck.  xxxiii.  11.  Say  unto  them,  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked ;  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his 
way  and  live ;  turn  ye  from  your  evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die  1 

The  miiiistors  of  the  gospel  are  sent  to  endeavor  to 
arouse  their  fellow-men  to  a  sense  of  theh  danger,  and 
to  win  them  to  God.  We  are  to  tell,  in  simple  bnt  solemn 
language,  all  that  we  know  about  God,  and  Christ,  and 
heaven,  and  hell ;  to  rebuke,  to  warn,  and  to  invite,  by 
all  the  means  that  God  may  put  in  our  powder  in  order  to 
save  them.  We  are  to  throw  ourselves  in  the  paths  of 
sinners  ;  and  to  attempt  to  stay  their  gohigs  as  they  travel 
down  to  death.  If  they  ivill  die,  our  duty  is  plain.  It 
is  to  be  found  throwing  obstacles  in  their  way  as  they  go 
to  ruin ;  addressing  ourselves  to  their  reason  and  their 
conscience  ;  reminding  them  of  death  and  the  judgment ; 
and  appealing  to  them  by  all  that  is  inviting  in  heaven, 
and  fearful  hi  future  wo,  not  to  go  down  to  the  place  of 
despair,  to  be  the  everlasting  enemies  of  God.  We  have 
no  choice  here.  We  must  v/arn  them  as  if  they  were  to 
die  ;  we  must  speak  to  them  as  if  they  were  in  danger 
of  eternal  ruin. 

Who  are  they  who  are  thus  to  be  addressed  ?  They 
are  the  wicked : — the  wicked,  as  the  Bible  uses  that  term 
— the  impenitent,  and  the  unbelieving,  and  the  violators 
of  the  law  of  God,  of  every  age,  and  character,  and 
complexion.  The  Bible  makes  but  two  grand  divisions 
among  men — as  there  will  be  but  two  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment— the  righteous  and  the  wicked ;  they  who  serve 
God,  and  they  who  serve  him  not.  In  the  one  class  are 
the  redeemed,  the  renewed,  the  praying,  the  pure,  the 
friends  of  Jesus  ;  in  the  other  they  who  are  unrenewed, 
unsanctified,  and  unforgiven  ;  they  who  do  not  pray,  and 
who  do  not  love  the  Redeemer,  and  who  have  not  a  well- 

i'  41 


42  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

founded  hope  of  heaven — be  they  profane,  and  sensnal, 
and  corrupt ;  be  they  proud  and  haughty ;  or  be  they 
amiable  and  externally  moral ;  or  be  they  accomplished 
and  winning  in  their  manners.  I  say  the  externally  moral, 
the  accomplished,  the  winning  in  their  manners.  I  say 
it,  because  the  Bible  classes  them  there.  I.  know  of  no 
promise  to  them  of  salvation  because  they  are  such  ;  I 
see  no  statement  that  one  man  is  to  be  saved  by  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  another  by  accomplishment,  and  free- 
dom from  gross  vices.  A  heart  exceedingly  wicked  may 
reside  beneath  a  most  attractive  outward  mien.  Fasci- 
nating manners  are  not  faith  in  Jesus  Christ ;  nor  is 
amiableness  the  love  of  God.  There  are  but  two  classes 
among  you  to-day — the  righteous  and  the  wicked.  There 
are  but  two  paths  that  are  trod  by  mortals — the  narrow 
Avay,  and  the  broad  way.  There  are  but  two  places  to 
be  occupied  at  the  judgment — the  right,  and  the  left 
hand  of  the  Judge.  There  are  but  tAvo  worlds  which 
are  to  receive  us  all  at  last — heaven  and  hell.  There  are 
no  Elysian  fields  which  you  m_ay  traverse  for  whom  the 
Christian's  heaven  would  be  too  holy  and  pure  ;  or  where 
you  might  possess  and  exhibit  your  amiableness  and  ac- 
complishments apart  from  the  grossly  vile  in  the  future 
world.  There  is  a  line  which  divides  the  human  race, 
and  which  v/ill  divide  it  forever.  On  one  side  are  the 
lovers  of  God,  and  on  the  other  are  the  v/icked ;  and  that 
portion  of  the  latter  class  who  are  present  here  to-day  I 
desire  to  address,  and  to  say  to  you,  "  Why  v.all  ye 
die?" 

Death  means  here  eternal  death.  For  why,  or  how 
can  God  address  mortal  men,  and  ask  them  why  they 
should  die  and  be  laid  in  their  graves  ?  They  cannot  help 
it.  He  has  himself  said,  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
shalt  thou  return."  '^  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to 
die," — and  "  There  is  no  escape  in  that  war."  To  ask 
us  '  ivhy  we  should  die,'  and  be  consigned  to  the  grave, 
and  moulder  back  to  dust,  as  if  we  could  avoid  it,  w^ould 
be  to  tantalize  and  mock  us—  and  God  would  not,  could 
not  do  it.  But  to  ask  us  lohy  we  will  persevere  and  go 
down  to  hell,  when  we  might  be  saved;  why  we  would 
dwell  with  devouring  fire,  when  we  might  dwell  amid 
the  glories  of  heaven,  is  a  question  worthy  of  a  God,  and 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  43 

is  fit  to  be  deeply  pondered  by  every  traveller  to  eter- 
nity. 

I  sliall  endeavor  to  enforce  that  question.  I  shall  ad 
dress  this  part  of  my  audience,  with  the  earnest  prayer 
that  they  may  hear  this  question  of  their  Maker  to-day ; 
and  with  a  regard  to  my  account  to  my  Maker,  and  to 
your  good,  I  shall  submit  to  you  now  a  few  propositions 
sustained  by  my  text,  and  designed  to  set  its  meaning  be- 
fore you. 

I.  It  is  the  unalterable  purpose  of  God  that  the  wicked 
shall  turn  or  die.  In  confirmation  of  this  proposition,  I 
refer  you  to  the  text.  There  it  is  of  necessity  implied 
that  it  is  the  solemn  purpose  of  God  that  the  wicked  shall 
turn  or  die.  He  would  not  expostulate  with  them  in  this 
solemn  manner  if  there  were  no  danger,  and  if  no  such 
purpose  were  formed.  It  is  not  the  manner  of  our  Maker 
to  assume  earnestness  when  it  is  uncalled  for  ;  or  to  use 
words  that  are  unmeaning ;  or  to  make  appeals  that  are 
designed  needlessly  to  alarm  men.  He  does  not  trifle 
with  the  creatures  which  he  has  made.  He  does  not  hold 
up  imaginary  objects  of  dread.  When  God  places  him- 
self in  our  path  ;  when  he  lifts  up  the  voice  of  solemn 
warning  and  remonstrance  ;  when  he  tells  of  danger,  it 
is  no  imaginary  scene.  It  is  no  work  of  the  fancy.  It 
is  real.  The  highest  proof  of  the  reality  and  certainty 
of  danger  and  guilt,  is  for  God  to  speak  of  them  as  if 
they  were  so. 

Many  persons  profess  to  hold  that  all  men  will  be 
saved.  Many  men  feel  that  in  some  indefinable  way 
sinners  may  yet  escape  future  wrath.  JNIany  feel,  and 
desire  to  feel,  that  there  is  no  danger,  and  that  all  that  is 
said  of  eternal  death  is  the  work  of  fancy  and  of  fiction. 
It  is  not  unnatural  to  dread  to  think  on  it — for  it  is  fitted 
to  produce  alarm  and  pain;  and  it  is  not- unnatural  to 
wish  that  there  were  no  danger,  and  no  death,  and  no 
hell.  But  look  at  this  subject,  and  see  if  your  JNIaker's 
earnestness  and  his  solemn  warning  furnish  no  proof  that 
there  is  danger.  You  feel,  or  think,  or  hope  that  there  is 
no  danger  of  eternal  death,  and  that  alarm  is  needless. 
Tell  me,  then,  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  solemn  address 
in  the  text.  Would  God — the  ever  blessed  and  benevo- 
lent God,  speak  of  death,  when  there  was  none,  and  of 


44  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

hell  wliich  had  do  existence  ?  Would  he  say,  *  Why  rush 
into  those  flames  V  when  there  are  no  flames  ?  '  Why  go 
into  that  pestilential  region  V  when  there  is  no  pestilence  ? 
'  Why  go  on  till  you  fall  down  that  precipice  V  when 
there  is  no  precipice  ?  *  Why  tread  that  region  of  death  V 
Avhen  there  is  no  death  ?  No.  God  does  not  thus  speak 
to  men.  And  when  he  asks  them  why  they  will  die  ; 
when  he  entreats  them  to  turn  lest  they  die,  it  is  full  proof 
that  unless  they  repent  they  must  die.  There  can  be  no 
stronger  proof  of  this.  And  without  any  impropriety  of 
imagination,  or  any  improper  use  of  Scripture  language, 
God  may  be  regarded  to-day  as  present  in  this  house,  and 
as  looking  over  this  congregation,  and  into  each  heart — 
and  onward  to  the  world  of  death — and  saying  to  each 
one,  "  Why  will  3^ou  die  ?'^  He  throws  himself  in  the 
path  of  the  wicked,  and  by  this  question  assures  them 
that  unless  they  turn  they  must  die.  He  speaks  to  the 
wicked  and  the  thoughtless — to  you  the  gay,  and  the  in- 
sensible, and  the  unconverted,  in  your  path  to  hell,  and 
puts  the  solemn  question  to-day,  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?" 
Tell  me,  would  he  use  this  language  if  you  were  in  no 
danger  ?  Would  he  use  it  if  he  knew  that  all  men  were 
to  be  saved  ? 

The  text  does  not  stand  alone.  If  any  man  doubts 
that  it  is  the  unalterable  purpose  of  God  that  the  wicked 
shall  turn  or  die,  let  him  open  at  pleasure  any  part  of  the^ 
Bible.  "  Verily,  verily,"  said  the  Redeemer,  "  except  a 
man  be  born  again,  he  shall  not  see  the  kingdom  of  God." 
"  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little  children, 
ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  "  He 
that  believeth  and  is  baptized  shall  be  saved,  but  he  that 
believeth  not  shall  be  damned."  "  He  that  believeth  not 
the  Son  shall  not  see  life,  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth 
on  him."  "  The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and 
all  the  nations  that  forget  God."  "  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God."  '^  These  shall  go 
away  into  everlasting  punishment."  There  is  no  ambiguity 
here.  There  is  no  wish  to  hide  a  painful  doctrine.  There 
is  no  concealment.  If  it  be  so  that  there  is  a  world  of 
death,  and  that  the  wicked  go  there,  they  do  not  go  un- 
apprized  of  it.  They  are  told  what  to  expect,  and  what 
is  before  them. 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  45 

The  purpose  of  God  on  this  point  has  been  expressed 
m  every  variety  of  way  in  the  Bible,  and  in  the  events 
of  his  Providence.  In  the  Bible — by  solemn  assurance  ; 
by  warning  ;  by  entreaty  ;  by  remonstrance  ;  by  appeals ; 
by  threatening ;  by  the  description  of  the  dying  and  the 
dead  who  have  gone  down  to  hell.  In  his  Providence — 
by  the  cutting  oti'  of  the  wicked ;  by  his  judgments  on 
the  old  world,  and  on  the  cities  of  the  plain,  "  Set  forth 
as  an  example  suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire." 
In  his  Providence  now.  Every  pain  is  designed  to  ad- 
monish us.  Every  hour  of  sickness  ;  every  funeral  pro- 
cession ;  every  open  grave  reminds  us  of  it.  The  earth 
is  full  of  the  warnings  and  of  the  monuments  of  his  dis- 
pleasure against  sin,  and  of  the  assurances  that  unless 
the  guilty  turn  it  is  his  unalterable  purpose  that  they 
shall  die.  There  is  no  relaxing,  no  misgiving  on  the  part 
of  God.  Six  thousand  years  have  made  no  change  in 
his  purpose ;  and  it  is  as  true  now  as  it  was  in  the  old 
•world,  and  in  the  time  of  Ezekiel,  that  unless  the  wicked 
turn  they  shall  die. 

If  I  had  time,  I  think  I  could  vindicate  this  doctrine  ; 
at  least  I  could  show  that  the  objections  against  it  are 
unfounded.  But  I  have  no  time  to  do  it  now,  and  it  is 
not  necessary.  What  I  wish  to  show  is,  that  it  is  the 
unchangeable  purpose  of  God  that  the  wicked  must  turn 
or  perish.  The  passages  of  scripture  to  which  I  have  refer- 
red demonstrate  it.  They  ivould  not,  they  could  wot  stand 
in  a  revelation  which  meant  to  teach  that  there  was  no 
danger.  Language  has  no  terrors  more  explicit,  and  none 
more  solemn  than  these.  Here  stand  these  passages — • 
full  of  solemn  truth,  and  solemn  Avarning — from  age  to 
age,  to  meet  the  caviller  and  the  despiser  of  this  gene- 
ration on  his  way  to  hell— and  then  to  meet  the  caviller 
and  the  despiser  of  the  next  generation  on  his  way  to 
hell — and  thus  to  Y\^arn  each  successive  generation  that 
it  is  the  unalterable  law  of  God  that  the  wicked  shall  turn 
or  die. 

Human  opinions  and  human  feelings  have  no  bearing 
on  this  doctrine.  They  do  not,  they  cannot  affect  it.  The 
Bible  travels  on  from  age  to  age  bearing  the  same  fear- 
ful doctrhie,  and  is  unchanged  in  its  warnhigs  and  ap- 


46  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

peals.  Some  of  each  generation  listen,  are  admonished,  and 
saved  ; — the  rest  pass  on  and  die.  Human  opinion  does 
not  alter  facts.  Human  opinion  does  not  remove  death- 
beds, and  graves,  and  sorrows ;  nor  will  it  remove  and 
annihilate  the  world  of  wo.  Facts  stand  unatiected  by 
the  changes  of  human  belief;  and  fearful  events  roll  on 
just  as  though  men  expected  them.  Nine-tenths  of  all 
the  dead  expected  not  to  die  at  the  time  when  in  fact 
they  have  died,  and  more  than  half  now  listen  to  no  ad- 
monition that  death  will  ever  come.  They  who  have 
died  had  an  expectation  that  they  would  live  many 
years.  But  death  came.  He  was  not  stayed  by  their 
belief  or  unbelief  He  came  steadily  on.  Each  day  he 
took  a  stride  towards  them — and  step  by  step  he  ad- 
vanced, so  that  they  could  not  retreat  or  evade  him  till 
he  was  near  enough  to  strike,  and  they  fell.  And  so 
though  the  living  Avill  not  hear,  death  comes  to  them. 
And  so  the  doom  of  the  sinner  rolls  on.  Each  day,  each 
hour,  each  moment,  it  draws  near.  Whether  he  believes 
it  or  not  makes  no  difference  in  the  fact.  It  comes.  It 
will  not  recede.  In  spite  of  all  attempts  to  reason,  or  to 
forget  it,  the  time  comes ;  and  at  the  appointed  time  the 
sinner  dies. 

Cavil  and  ridicule  do  not  affect  this.  There  is  no  power 
in  a  joke  to  put  away  convulsions,  and  fevers,  and  groans. 
The  laugh  and  the  song  close  no  grave,  and  put  back 
none  of  the  sorrows  of  the  second  death.  The  dwellers 
in  Pompeii  could  not  put  back  the  fires  of  the  volcano  by 
derision ;  nor  would  the  mockery  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Sodom  have  stayed  the  sheets  of  flame  that  came  from 
heaven.  The  scoffing  sinner  dies,  and  is  lost  just  like 
others  ;  the  young  man  that  has  learned  to  cavil  and  de- 
ride religion,  dies  just  like  others.  No  cavil  has  yet 
changed  a  fact ;  none  has  ever  stayed  the  arrow  of 
death. 

This  is  plain.  But  will  not  God  make  allowance  for 
insensibility  on  this  subject  ?  Will  he  not  pity,  and  spare, 
and  save  him  who  has  no  feeling,  and  no  desire  to  be 
saved  ?  I  answer,  No.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  God  that 
the  sinner  does  not  feel.  It  is  not  because  he  has  reveal- 
ed no  truth  fitted  to  make  men  feel.     It  is  not  because 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  47 

the  truth  is  not  plain  enough.  I  ask  you,  is  not  the 
ground  of  your  complaint — not  that  it  is  not  plain  enough 
— but  that  it  is  too  plain  ?  Is  not  that  the  feeling  which 
you  liave  to-day  ?  Has  not  God  revealed  truth  enough  to 
affect  the  heart,  and  to  make  it  feel  ?  You  are  insensible, 
you  say,  to  your  condition.  How  has  this  been  pro- 
duced ?  By  God  ? — /  answer.  By  resisting  his  appeals  ; 
slighting  his  warnings  ;  grieving  his  Spirit ;  refusing  to 
listen  to  his  messengers.  You  have  sought  it,  and  loved 
it,  and  would  allow  nothing  to  rouse  you  from  it.  You 
have  made  up  your  mind  on  the  subject — and  now  will 
you  blame  God  ?  You  may  close  your  eyes  to  the  fright- 
ful precipice  of  which  a  friend  warns  you,  but  will  you 
say  that  you  might  not  have  seen  the  danger  ?  God  is 
not  to  blame  when  men  are  blind  to  their  own  interests. 
He  has  told  you  what  you  are — a  lost  sinner.  He  has 
told  you  what  is  before  you — death.  He  has  apprized 
you  when  it  will  come— soon.  He  has  lifted  the  veil 
from  the  eternal  world  and  shown  to  you  his  throne,  and 
his  judgment -bar,  and  the  world  of  wo.  And  now,  I 
ask,  who  is  to  blame  if  the  sinner  is  unmoved  and  un- 
concerned ?  If,  with  the  proof  of  guilt  which  God  has 
furnished  ;  and  the  solemn  warning  in  the  Bible  before 
you ;  and  the  exhibition  of  the  death  of  Jesus  for  your 
sins,  you  are  unmoved,  will  you  blame  God  ?  What 
other  truths  could  you  ask,  or  expect  to  impress  the 
mind  ?  There  are  no  other,  no  higher  truths  than  these. 
Heaven  has  no  other,  than  to  offer  its  eternal  bliss  to 
mortals.  Hell  has  no  other,  than  to  threaten  its  eternal 
woes.  The  grave  has  no  other,  than  to  assure  you  that 
you  must  all  sleep  and  moulder  there.  God  has  no 
higher  truth  than  to  declare  his  conviction  of  the  guilt 
and  danger  of  man ;  to  proclaim  his  love  by  tlie  gift  of 
his  Son  to  die  ;  to  offer  himself  as  the  portion  of  the  soul, 
and  his  heaven  as  our  home ;  and  to  invite  as  a  Father, 
and  to  threaten  as  a  God,  to  induce  us  to  return  to  him- 
self. If  the  sinner  is  insensible,  he  has  none  to  blame 
but  himself;  if  he  dies,  he  dies  with  the  assurance  often 
made  to  him — made  to  him  till  he  was  weary  of  it — that 
it  was  the  unalterable  purpose  of  God  that  the  wicked 
should  turn  or  die. 


48  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

II.  My  second  proposition  is,  that  there  is  danger  that 
the  wicked  will  die  the  second  death.  In  proof  of  this^ 
hear  these  remarks.  If  there  were  no  danger  of  it,  God 
would  not  address  you  in  the  language  of  the  text ;  and 
in  the  similar  language  with  which  the  Bible  abounds. 
He  does  not  assume  earnestness  where  there  is  no  danger; 
he  does  not  warn  men  with  increasing  importunity,  unless 
he  sees  the  danger  deepen.  Need  I  pause  to  prove  further 
that  there  is  such  danger  ?  Need  I  stop  to  show  in  what  it 
Ues  ?  A  sinner  never  takes  a  step  which  is  not  on  the  crum- 
bling verge  of  a  precipice,  from  which,  if  he  falls,  he  falls 
to  rise  no  more.  A  man  who  may  die  at  any  moment,  and 
who  is  unprepared  to  die,  is  in  danger  of  hell  each  step 
that  he  takes.  A  soul  that  is  insensible  and  unmoved — 
which  no  appeal  reaches,  and  no  voice  alarms,  is  in  dan- 
ger of  ruin.  A  man  who  lives  for  himself,  and  not  for 
God,  is  in  danger  of  death  eternal,  and  may  at  any  mo- 
ment be  cut  off  from  life  and  hope.  There  are  obstacles 
which  lie  between  each  impenitent  man  and  heaven,  and 
there  are  strong  probabilities  that  these  obstacles  will 
never  be  surmounted,  and  that  the  soul  will  be  lost.  I 
wish  to  show  you  some  of  these  obstacles,  and  to  repre- 
sent to  you  the  probability  that  they  will  never  be  over- 
come, but  that  they  will  always  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
salvation.  The  insensibility  of  the  sinner  is  one  proof  of  the 
danger  of  losing  the  soul,  and  that  danger  lies  in  the  diffi- 
culty of  arousing  the  mind  to  think  of  its  own  salvation, 
and  the  unwillingness  of  the  heart  to  feel  its  own  guilt 
and  danger.  A  man  may  be  made  to  feel  when  he  is  in 
danger  of  bankruptcy,  though  he  may  shut  his  eyes  long 
to  the  truth.  A  man  may  be  made  to  feel  that  he  is  in 
danger  of  dying,  when  disease  has  seized  upon  him,  and 
his  frame  is  wasting  away.  The  eyes  may  shed  tears 
over  a  novel,  or  at  an  exhibition  of  a  tragedy,  or  in  scenes 
of  real  grief  The  heart  is  susceptible  to  the  appeals  of 
friendship,  and  gratitude,  and  love,  and  feels  deeply  at 
the  prospect  of  the  loss  of  reputation  or  property.  Scenes 
of  imaginary  grief  draw  forth  tears,  but  there  are  no 
tears  to  shed  at  the  cross  of  Christ.  The  danger  of  death 
sometimes  alarms,  but  there  is  no  feeling  of  danger  at 
the  prospect  of  losing  the  soul.    There  appeals  are  made 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  49 

in  vain.  The  eye  weeps  not,  and  the  heart  feels  not. 
There  are  no  tears  to  shed,  and  there  is  no  power  to 
create  concern.  The  unconverted  heart  of  man  is  a  hard 
rock : — no  persuasion,  no  entreaty,  no  command,  no  re- 
monstrance, no  glowing  description  of  heaven,  no  fear- 
ful denunciation  of  eternal  wo,  moves  or  affects  it.  Its 
insensibility,  in  the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed, 
is  the  most  mysterious  and  wonderful  fact  in  the  universe, 
of  which  we  have  any  knowledge,  and  all  philosophy 
fails  to  account  for  it. 

Now,  the  danger  of  which  I  am  speaking  is  this.  It 
is,  that  this  state  of  things  will  continue — and  continue 
until  it  be  too  late.  I  argue  it  and  urge  it,  because  you 
mean  it  shall,  and  intend  that  nothing  shall  arouse  you ; 
because  it  continues  till  death  in  such  a  majority  of  cases 
just  like  your  own  ;  because  you  have  succeeded  in  con- 
tinuing it  so  long,  and  have  learned  the  unhappy  art  of 
warding  oif  all  appeals,  and  of  resisting  all  approaches 
iQ  the  soul ;  because  you  have  already  resisted,  perhaps, 
as  solemn  appeals  as  can  ever  be  made  to  you ;  and  be- 
cause you  may  have  gone  far  over  your  little  journey  of 
life,  and  may  be  near  its  close.  He  who  has  successfully 
resisted  the  appeals  of  the  gospel,  and  the  providence, 
and  the  Spirit  of  God  for  twenty,  thirty,  or  forty  years, 
and  whose  mind  is  now  unmoved,  has  the  prospect  of 
being  able  to  resist  them  until  life  shall  close,  and  of  dying 
in  the  same  insensibility  in  which  he  lives.  What,  my 
hearer,  will  ever  rouse  you }  Is  there  any  new  law  to  be 
promulgated  from  some  fearful  Sinai,  clothed  in  black- 
ness and  tempest  ?  Is  there  to  be  some  new  incarnation 
of  God,  to  appeal  to  you  by  more  fearful  wonders  than 
those  of  Calvary?  Is  there  to  be  some  new  heaven  re- 
vealed, more  glorious,  more  rich,  more  inviting,  more 
lovely,  to  win  you  ?  Is  there  to  be  a  hell  disclosed  of 
more  awful  horror,  and  of  longer  burnings  ?  Oh,  no, 
none  of  these  things.  You  have  all  to  rouse  you  which 
you  can  ever  have.  Death  ;  the  grave  ;  the  cross  ;  hea- 
ven ;  hell :  all — all  appeal  to  you,  and  call  upon  you  to 
turn  and  live.  What,  let  me  ask,  is  to  rouse  you  ?  Do 
you  expect  to  be  aroused  when  you  reach  a  more  favor- 
able time  of  life  ?  With  many,  many  of  you,  the  most 
favorable  time  is  passed  already,  and  you  were  unmoved. 

5 


50  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Do  yon  expect  to  be  aroused  by  some  alarming  dispen- 
sation of  Providence,  and  some  more  solemn  call  to  re- 
pentance ?  You,  perhaps,  who  have  seen  a  child  die,  and 
heard  God  speak  from  his  bed  and  his  grave  to  you  in 
vain ;  you  who  have  been  stretched  on  a  bed  of  pain,  and 
compelled  to  look  into  eternity,  yet  unmoved  ;  you  who 
have  walked  through  scenes  of  calamity  where  God  was, 
and  where  you  refused  to  hear  his  voice,  do  you  expect 
that  affliction  will  awaken  you  ?  Do  you  wait  that  God 
should  send  his  Spirit  into  your  hearts,  and  arouse  you  ? 
You  who  have  often  grieved  that  Spirit,  and  who  know 
that  with  your  present  desires  you  would  resist  and  op- 
pose him  again,  do  you  look  and  long  for  those  heavenly 
influences  ?  Do  you  wait  for  others  to  lead  the  way  to 
God,  and  expect  to  go  with  them  ?  Tell  me,  how  many 
of  your  friends  have  become  Christians,  and  left  you  un- 
willing to  follow  them  ?  Do  you  wait  for  a  miracle  to 
convert  you — for  some  supernatural  influence  to  bear 
you  to  heaven  against  your  own  will  ?  Then  /  tell  you, 
you  wait  in  vain.  For  this  you  may  wait  till  "  seas  shall 
waste,  and  skies  in  smoke  decay.'^  There  are  no  such 
influences.  The  heart  must  yield,  or  there  is  no  salva- 
tion.* The  hard  heart  must  feel,  and  repent,  and  become 
willing  that  God  should  reign,  or  there  is  no  salvation. 
There  are  no  insensible  and  unwilhng  saints  in  heaven. 
All  there  rejoice  in  the  privilege  of  salvation,  and  have 
wept,  and  sighed,  and  groaned  over  sin,  and  have  prayed 
for  pardon.  The  truth,  my  hearer,  is,  that  you  do  not 
love  religion  ;  and  the  danger  is,  that  this  state  of  things 
will  remain  till  you  die. 

I  have  spoken  of  insensibility  as  a  source  of  danger. 
I  might  have  told  you  of  other  dangers.  Young  man — 
your  ambition  is  endangering  your  soul.  Your  love  of 
gain  is  estranging  you  from  God.  Your  pride  is  a  source 
of  danger  to  you.  Your  youthful  passions  ;  your  unholy 
companions ;  your  amusements  ;  your  loose  and  unsettled 
principles  ;  your  sceptical  thoughts ;  your  intention  to 
delay  this  subject;  your  love  of  self;  your  nearness  to 
the  grave ;  your  exposure  to  death — all  endanger  your 
salvation.  The  allurements  of  the  world  ;  the  arts  of  a 
cunning  and  subtle  foe  ;  the  deceitfulness  of  your  own 
hearts ;  the  propensity  to  delay,  all  endanger  your  salva- 


WHY    WILL    TE    DIE  ?  51 

tion.  They  meet  you  every  where  ;  every  day  ;— in  your 
hearts ;  in  the  world  ;  in  your  feeUngs  ; — and  it  is  for 
reasons  such  as  these  that  God  addresses  you  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  text,  and  asks  you  luhy  you  will  die  ?  He 
sees  the  danger  ;  he  knows  it ;  he  loves  your  soul ;  and 
he  points  you  to  the  perils  of  your  way.  Look  at  these 
facts.  I  ask  if  you  are  not  in  danger?  I  ask  if  there  is 
not  a  fearful  probability  that  your  souls  will  be  lost  ?  I 
ask  if  there  is  not  reason  to  fear  that  you  will  be  unmoved 
by  all  the  appeals  of  the  gospel ;  that  you  will  hear  un- 
concerned all  the  thunders  of  the  law ;  that  you  will 
tread  on  in  the  path  of  sin  unconcerned  ; — that,  in  one 
word,  while  yoT>  live  you  will  live  without  God,  and 
when  you  di^  ,ou  will  die  without  God,  and  when 
you  go  to  eternity  you  will  make  the  awful  plunge  "  in. 
the  dark"  without  God?  You  will  remember  that  these 
difficulties  are  your  own.  God  is  not  responsible  for 
them.  He  has  not  made  them.  Your  indifference  to  re- 
ligion ;  your  love  of  the  world  ;  your  love  of  ease  ;  your 
love  of  sin,  are  all  your  own.  Your  own  heart  cherishes 
them;  and  so  dearly  you  love  them  that  nothing  will 
induce  you  to  abandon  them. 

III.  My  third  general  proposition  is,  that  the  kind  of 
death  referred  to  in  the  text  is  such  as  to  make  earnest- 
ness of  remonstrance  proper.  If  it  were  not,  God  would 
not  use  this  strong  language.  If  it  were  a  trifle,  an 
affair  of  a  moment,  or  a  day  ;  if  it  were  temporary  pain 
or  distress,  he  would  not  remonstrate  in  this  manner. 
When  does  he  remonstrate  with  us  about  exposing  our- 
selves to  sickness  or  temporal  death  ?  But  when  God 
uses  this  language,  he  sees  all  that  can  be  seen  in  the  sin- 
ner's doom.  His  omniscient  eye  is  on  the  grave,  and  on 
hell ;  and  seeing  all,  he  asks,  why,  why  will  ye  die  ?  He 
sees  what  you  do  not,  and  cannot  see  ;  and  seeing  all,  he 
speaks  as  a  Father  and  a  Friend,  and  asks,  why,  why 
will  ye  die  ?  Could  you  see  it  as  he  sees  it,  or  as  even 
man  on  earth  may  be  made  to  see  it,  you  would  cease  to 
wonder  at  the  earnestness  of  the  question. 

What  is  the  death  referred  to  in  the  text  ?  What  is 
death  at  all  ?  What  is  eternal  death  ? — for  the  one  is  the 
faint  emblem  and  image — and,  alas  !  often  the  forerunner 
of  the  other.    We  know  something — yet  little — of  death. 


52  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

We  see  to-day  a  lovely  and  vigorous  youth,  flushed  with 
hope,  and  full  of  cheerfulness  and  joy — the  pride  of  his 
friends,  and  the  hope  of  the  community.  His  eye  is  ra- 
diant with  genius  ;  his  cheek  blooms  with  the  rose  of 
health  ;  his  frame  is  manly  and  commanding ;  his  step 
is  elastic  and  joyous;  his  heart  is  bounding  with  hope. 
He  comes  to  lend  to  the  social  circle  the  enchantment  of 
his  conversation  and  his  wit ;  and  he  looks  onward  to 
health,  and  honor,  and  long  life.  There  is  not  a  crown 
so  brilliant  in  the  grasp  of  ambition  that  he  does  not  as- 
pire to  it ;  there  is  not  a  field  of  honor  which  he  does  not 
hope  to  tread.  To-morrow  that  elastic  foot-tread  ceases 
to  be  heard  in  the  cheerful  circle.  That  voice  is  hushed. 
The  fire  has  departed  from  that  eye  ;  and  the  color  from 
that  cheek ;  and  that  large  heart  has  ceased  to  beat,  and 
the  gushing  blood  has  ceased  to  flow ;  and  all  that  am- 
bition, and  hope,  and  wit,  and  humor,  and  gaiety  have 
fled ; — and  there  is  left — what  ?  A  mass  of  moulded  clay 
— now  like  the  marble — cold,  but  more  perishable  ;  a 
moulded  form,  but  with  a  peculiarity  of  feature,  a  chilli- 
ness, a  fixedness,  a  solemnity,  a  repulsiveness,  that  we 
see,  but  cannot  describe — and  that  nature  nowhere  else 
reveals  but  among  the  dead.  Is  this  death  ? — Who  shall 
tell  us  what  it  is ;  or  what  that  spirit  felt  when  it  fled — 
driven  by  the  grim  king  away  from  the  clay  tenement  ? 
This  is  death — the  death  of  the  bodi/ — but  it  is  but  the 
image  of  death.  The  true  death — the  real  death,  is  the 
death  of  the  soul.  It  is  when  the  soul  is  severed  from 
its  God,  and  from  hope,  and  peace,  and  joy;  when  it 
lives — without  life  ;  survives — only  to  sufler  ; — is  cut  off 
from  its  high  destiny — and  driven  away  from  him  who 
is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life.  Religion  is  life  ;  and 
heaven  is  life  ;  and  hell  is  existence  without  life — conti- 
nued being,  where  the  soul  is  held  in  existence  only  to 
continue  to  die.  This  is  death.  To  be  seen,  it  must 
be  seen  beyond  the  grave — in  hell. 

What  is  ihaf  death  ?  Why  should  we  dread  it  ?  Hear 
him  speak  who  saw  it  all,  and  who  knew  it  all.  "  The 
Son  of  man  shall  send  forth  his  angels,  and  shall  gather 
out  of  his  kingdom  all  things  that  ofl'end,  and  them 
which  do  iniquity,  and  shall  cast  them  into  a  furnace  of 
fire  5  there  shall  be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.''  There, 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  53 

according  to  him,  the  sufferer  shall  Kft  up  the  eyes,  "  being 
in  torment,"  and  ask  in  vain  for  a  single  ^^  drop  of  water" 
to  cool  the  tongue ;  there  "  the  worm  dieth  not,  and  the 
fire  shall  not  be  quenched"  ;  there  shall  be  "  everlasting 
punishment"  ;  there  shall  be  "  outer  darkness" ;  there 
shall  be  the  execution  of  the  sentence,  "  Depart,  accursed, 
into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  an- 
gels." I  have  used  only  the  words  of  the  meek,  and  mild, 
and  benevolent  Redeemer — the  most  tender,  and  kind, 
and  merciful  of  all  who  have  dwelt  on  the  earth,  and  who 
used  such  expressions  as  these,  '^  How  can  ye  escape  the 
damnation  of  hell  ?"  as  if  they  became  no  other  lips  but 
his.  He  never  concealed  this  danger.  He  never  spake 
or  acted  as  if  it  did  not  exist.  He  sought  to  save  men. 
as  if  the  danger  were  real.  He  was  just  as  serious,  and 
solemn,  and  tender,  as  if  he  felt  that  every  man  was  in 
danger  of  it.  And  he  told  men  when  he  lived,  and  he 
tells  you  now,  just  what  the  sinner  has  to  expect.  He 
felt  that  men  were  in  danger,  or  he  would  never  have 
left  the  heavens  to  save  them.  And  was  it  any  common 
or  any  imaginary  danger  that  would  lead  him  from  hea- 
ven to  the  manger,  to  the  cross,  to  the  tomb  ? 

I  know  not  what  eternal  death  is.  I  can  tell  you  some 
things.  It  is  far  away  from  heaven — those  blissful  plains 
where  eternal  joy  dwells.  It  is  far  from  hope — hope  that 
here  "  comes  to  all."  It  is  the  abode  of  all  the  aban- 
doned, and  profane,  and  vile — the  collected  guilt  and 
wretchedness  of  this  world.  It  is  a  place  where  no  sanc- 
tuary like  this  opens  its  doors  and  invites  to  heaven  ; 
where  no  Sabbath  returns  to  bless  the  soul ;  where  no 
message  of  mercy  comes  to  the  suffering  and  the  sad.  It 
is  a  world  unblessed  like  this  with  the  work  of  redemp- 
tion. On  no  second  Calvary  there  is  a  Redeemer  offered 
for  sin ;  and  from  no  tomb  there  does  he  rise  to  life  to 
bless  the  sufferers  with  the  offer,  and  to  furnish  the  pledge 
of  heaven.  No  Spirit  strives  there  to  reclaim  the  lost ; 
and  on  no  zephyr  there  is  the  message  of  mercy  borne, 
whispering  peace.  No  God  meets  the  desponding  there 
with  promises  and  hopes  ;  and  from  no  eye  there  is  the 
tear  of  sorrow  ever  wiped  away.  There  is  no  such  friend 
as  Jesus  ;  no  voice  of  mercy  ;  no  day-star  of  hope  ;  no 
father,  mother,  daughter,  pastor,  angel,  to  sympathize ; 

5* 


54  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

no  one  to  breathe  for  the  lost  the  prayer  for  pardon ;  no 
great  Intercessor  to  bear  the  cry  for  mercy  up  to  the 
throne  of  God.  It  is  death — Ungering,  long,  intermina- 
ble death — the  dying  sorrow  prolonged  from  age  to  age  ; 
onward — onward  toward  eternity — ever  lingering,  never 
ending. 

It  is  eternal.  So  said  he  who  is  the  faithful  and  true 
witness,  and  who  cannot  lie.  They  "  go  away  into  ever- 
lasting punishment."  This  settles  the  question  ;  and  if 
you  go  there,  you  go  with  your  eyes  open.  He  deceives 
no  one.  He  would  undeceive  all.  I  use  scripture  lan- 
guage. I  have  no  power — no  heart  to  attempt  to  por- 
tray these  scenes.  They  are  not  topics  for  declamation. 
For  of  whom  are  these  things  spoken  ?  Of  the  dwellers 
in  distant  worlds  ?  Of  those  whom  we  have  not  seen  ? 
Alas  !  of  many,  many  of  the  wicked  in  this  house.  How 
many  now  in  despair  may  have  occupied  the  seats  which 
you  now  occupy — not  suffered  now  to  go  and  tell  their 
brethren  lest  they  also  come  into  that  place  of  torment ! 
Oh,  they  are  spoken  of  our  kindred  and  friends — of 
wives,  and  husbands,  and  parents,  and  school-compa- 
nions, and  teachers,  and  pupils,  who  are  out  of  Christ. 
They  are  spoken  of  those  to  whom  we  are  bound  by 
every  tender  tie,  and  to  whom  the  heart  is  drawn  by  all 
the  gushing  sympathy  of  love  ;  but  are  they  less  in  dan- 
ger on  that  account  ?  0,  is  there  no  danger  ?  Suppose  a 
voice  from  heaven  should  be  heard  in  this  house,  and 
saying  to  the  living  here,  "  The  day  is  coming  in  which 
all  that  are  in  their  graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  man,  and  shall  come  forth,  they  that  have  done 
evil  to  the  resurrection  of  damnation" ;  "  the  wicked 
shall  be  turned  into  hell"  ;  "  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall 
all  perish"  ;  is  there  a  heart  here  that  would  not  feel  that 
there  was  danger  ?  Should  a  hand  be  seen  writing  on 
these  walls  the  names  of  all  those  here  who  are  in  dan- 
ger of  hell,  how  solemn  would  be  this  house  !  With  what 
anxiety  would  you  trace  the  record  made  !  How  anxious- 
ly would  you  look  to  see  if  your  name  was  begun — was 
recorded— was  fixed  there  !  How  deep  the  anguish  of 
the  soul  !  How  deep,  perhaps,  the  groans  that  would  be 
heard  in  every  part  of  this  house  I 

IV.  My  fourth  and  concluding  proposition  is,  that  eter- 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  55 

nal  death  is  not  necessary,  and  may  be  avoided.  If  it 
were  necessary  and  inevitable,  your  Maker  would  not 
expostulate  with  you,  and  ask  "  Wiry  will  ye  die  ?''  By 
a  solemn  oath — the  most  solemn — the  only  one  that  the 
Creator  can  make — by  himself — his  own  life — his  exist- 
ence— he  declares  that  he  has  no  pleasure  in  your  death. 

Nor  does  this  solemn  declaration  stand  alone.  Open 
any  page  of  the  Bible,  and  you  may  find  the  same  as- 
surance every  where.  In  every  way  in  which  we  can 
conceive  or  desire,  he  has  given  the  solemn  assurance  to 
men  that  if  they  die,  it  will  not  be  because  his  ear  is  deaf 
to  the  cry  of  penitence,  or  his  eye  not  compassionate  to 
the  returning  prodigal,  or  because  there  is  no  provision 
for  their  salvation.  What  mean  your  spared  liA^es,  if  he 
would  have  pleasure  in  your  death  ?  Why  have  you  not 
been  cut  down  long  since  in  your  sins }  What  mean  the 
sorrows  of  the  Redeemer  in  Gethsemane  and  on  Cal- 
vary, if  God  wished  your  death  ?  Why  was  a  Saviour 
given  to  die  ?  What  mean  the  invitations  of  that  Re- 
deemer to  all — to  all  to  come  and  live  ?  Why  do  I  hear 
his  kind  voice  meeting  the  sighs  of  the  broken-hearted 
and  the  contrite,  and  saying,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye 
that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest?"  Why  his  invitation,  Avide  as  the  world,  "Whoso- 
ever will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely"  ?  Why 
your  serious  thoughts  ;  your  tender  feehngs  ;  your  con- 
victions of  sin  ;  your  desires  of  heaven — produced  by  the 
Holy  Ghost — if  God  would  have  pleasure  in  your  ruin  } 
Why  this  message  of  mercy  sent  again  to  your  souls,  if 
God  wished  your  death  ? 

No,  my  hearers,  I  assure  you  that  God  wishes  not 
your  death.  Had  he  desired  it,  instead  of  being  to-day 
in  this  peaceful  sanctuary,  you  would  have  been  lifting 
up  your  eyes  in  the  world  of  despair.  He  desires  not 
your  death.  The  Redeemer  desires  not  your  death. 
There  is  not  an  angel  of  light  that  desires  your  death. 
There  is  not  one  among  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  per- 
fect in  heaven — be  it  departed  father,  mother,  sister,  child, 
that  desires  your  death.  There  is  not  a  pious  friend 
among  the  living  that  desires  your  death.  There  is  not 
one  holy  being  throughout  the  universe,  from  Him  that 


56  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

sitteth  on  the  throne  to  the  humblest  member  of  the 
Christian  church,  that  does  not  desire  your  salvation. 

Then  why  will  you  die  ?  Why  should  you  die  ?  Why 
neglect  the  subject  till  you  perish  forever  ?  I  ask  with 
earnestness  and  with  affection,  wl  <y,  why  will  you  die  ? 
What  reason  can  be  given  why  t/ou  should  perish,  while 
others  are  saved  ?  Is  it  because  God  is  unwilling  ?  That 
ivould  be  a  reason  if  it  were  so,  but  look  at  his  solemn 
oath  in  the  text.  Is  it  because  the  Lord  Jesus  did  not 
die  for  you  ?  That  would  be  a  reason  if  it  were  so,  but 
hear  the  solemn  declaration  of  the  scriptures  :  "  He  tasted 
death  for  every  man"  ?  Hear  his  own  words,  that  the 
"  Son  of  man  would  be  lifted  up,  that  whosoever  believeth 
on  him  might  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  Is  it 
because  Christ  is  unwilling  that  you  should  be  saved  ? 
That  would  be  a  reason,  but  hear  him  say,  "  Come  unto 
me  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest."  Is  it  because  there  is  no  room  in  hea- 
ven ;  because  it  is  limited,  and  is  full  ;  because  there  are 
no  harps  there  that  your  hand  might  strike  ?  That  would 
be  a  reason,  but  hear  the  Redeemer  say,  "  And  yet  there 
is  room."  Is  it  because  you  cannot  come  ;  because  there 
are  mountains  of  difficulties  which  you  cannot  overcome  ; 
because  your  sins  are  so  great  that  they  cannot  be  par- 
doned ?  That  would  be  a  reason  ;  but  hear  the  ever- 
blessed  God,  "  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall 
be  as  white  as  snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson, 
they  shall  be  white  as  wool."  Is  it  because  the  plea- 
sures, and  honours,  and  wealth  of  this  world  will  be  an 
equivalent  for  eternal  sorrows  ;  because  there  will  be  gain 
in  enjoying  these  though  you  perish  at  last  ?  That  might 
have  some  show  of  reason,  but  what  will  you  be  profited 
"  if  3^ou  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  your  own  soul"  ? 

Then,  why  will  you  die  ?  Why  grieve  away  the  Spirit 
of  God  ?  Why  trample  beneath  your  feet  the  blood  of 
the  Saviour  ?  Why  go  down  to  death  ?  Aged  man,  why 
exhaust  the  last  drop  of  mercy  as  you  totter  over  the 
tomb,  and  sigh  out  the  remains  of  your  earthly  being  in 
the  prayer,  '  0  God  !  depart  from  me,  I  desire  not  the 
knowledge  of  thy  ways  V  Man  of  middle  age,  why 
tread  on  in  the  neglect  of  religion,  in  the  path  which 


WHY    WILL    YE    DIE  ?  57 

thousands  have  trod — the  path  that  leads  to  death — de- 
votmg  yourself  to  this  world,  only  to  reap  immortal  wo  ? 
Ye  young ;  ye  vigorous ;  ye  full  of  hope,  and  hilarity, 
and  ambition,  why  spend  the  spring-time  of  being  amidst 
youthful  pleasures  in  the  neglect  of  God,  and  why  should 
you  die  forever  ?  Ye  gay,  ye  guilty,  ye  thoughtless,  ye 
anxious,  ye  aged,  and  ye  young,  your  Maker  meets  you 
now,  and  asks  you,  ^  Why  will  ye  die  V  0,  that  this 
question  might  be  written  in  letters  of  living  light  in 
every  gay  assembly  where  you  forget  God ;  in  the  room 
where  you  sleep  ;  and  over  your  path  every  day  as  you 
go  down  to  death  !  Why  will  ye  die  ?  why  will  ye  die  ? 
why  will  ye  die  ?  Why  go  away  from  the  cross  ?  Why 
tarn  your  backs  on  heaven  ?  Why  be  miserable  forever  ? 
Why  linger  on  to  all  eternity  in  that  immortal  pain  which 
never  ceases — in  the  horrors  of  that  death  which  never 
dies? 


SERMON  IV. 

THE  DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE   HEART. 
Jeremiah  xvii.  9.     The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things. 

That  is  deceitful  which  tends  to  mislead,  or  in  which 
we  cannot  confide.  A  man  who  professes  friendship  for 
us  when  we  are  in  perplexity,  and  who  leads  us  into  ad- 
ditional perplexity,  deceives  us.  When  a  traveller  has 
lost  his  way,  and  a  stranger  meets  him  and  offers  to 
conduct  him,  and  leads  him  on  a  wrong  course,  or  so 
that  he  falls  among  robbers,  he  deceives  him.  Professed 
friends  are  sometimes  deceitful,  and  are  beautifully  com- 
pared by  Job  to  a  brook  in  the  desert.  "  My  brethren 
have  dealt  deceitfully  as  a  brook,  and  as  the  stream  of 
brooks  they  pass  away.  Which  are  turbid  by  means  of 
the  [melted]  ice,  in  which  the  snow  is  hid  [by  being  dis- 
solved]. In  the  time  when  they  become  warm  they 
evaporate  ;  when  the  heat  cometh  they  are  dried  up  from 
their  place.  The  channels  of  their  way  Avind  round 
about ;  they  go  into  nothing  and  are  lost.  The  caravans 
of  Tema  look ;  the  travelling  companies  of  Sheba  expect 
to  see  them.  They  are  ashamed  that  they  relied  on 
them  ;  they  come  even  to  the  place,  and  are  confounded." 
Job  vi.  15 — 20.  They  are  deceitful — because  in  Eastern 
climates,  and  in  sandy  deserts,  such  streams  are  dried  up 
or  are  lost  in  the  sand.  In  the  winter,  or  in  the  rainy 
season,  they  are  swollen.  In  summer,  and  in  times  of 
drought,  they  disappear.  They  sink  away  in  the  sand, 
or  they  wind  along  in  the  desert,  until  they  grow  smaller 
and  smaller,  and  finally  disappear.  The  weary  traveller 
that  had  at  some  seasons  of  the  year  pitched  his  tent 
there,  returns  again,  and  expects  again  to  find  the  gur- 
gling fountain,  or  the  running  stream,  but  is  disappointed. 
Its  Avaters  are  dried  up,  and  the  brook  has  deceived  him. 
A  hoiv  is   deceitful.     "  They   turned  back,"  says   the 

58 


THE    DECEITFULNESS    OF    THE    HEART  59 

Psalmist,  "  and  dealt  unfaithfully  like  their  fathers  ;  they 
were  turned  aside  like  a  deceitful  bow."  Ps.  Ixxviii. 
57.  "  They  return,"  says  the  Prophet  when  speaking  of 
the  false  and  unfaithful  Jews,  "  they  return,  but  not  to  the 
Most  High  ;  they  are  like  a  deceitful  bow."  Hos.  vii.  16. 
A  bow  is  deceitful  when  the  arms  are  of  unequal  length, 
elasticity,  or  strength,  or  when,  from  any  cause,  the  arrow 
does  not  follow  the  aim  of  the  marksman,  and  turns  aside. 
He  who  flatters  us,  and  who  designs  to  take  advantage 
of  our  vanity  to  ruin  our  virtue,  or  to  obtain  our  property, 
is  deceitful.  The  man  who  professes  to  be  your  friend, 
and  who  stabs  your  reputation  in  the  dark ;  who  profess- 
ing friendship  sets  in  motion  a  train  of  evil  reports  and 
inuendoes,  and  suspicions,  whose  source  you  cannot 
trace,  and  whose  malignity  you  cannot  meet  any  more 
than  you  can  a  "  mist  from  the  ocean,"  is  deceitful.  He 
cannot  be  trusted.  0  how  full  is  the  world  of  deceit  and 
imposition  !  Thousands  and  millions  are  the  dupes  of 
imposition  in  various  ways,  and  no  inconsiderable  part  of 
the  human  family  seem  to  live  that  they  may  practise 
fraud  on  their  fellow-men. 

But  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  these  things.  It 
is  more  deceitful  than  the  man  who  professes  friendship 
for  us  in  perplexity,  and  who  imposes  on  us ;  than  the 
false  guide  to  the  traveller ;  than  the  brook,  the  bow, 
the  flatterer,  the  slanderer.  It  is  more  likely  to  lead  us 
astray  than  any  one  or  all  of  them.  To  illustrate  this 
truth  will  be  the  design  of  this  discourse ;  and  my  plan 
will  be  to  mention  a  few  things  in  which  men  are  deceived 
by  their  own  hearts. 

I.  I  observe  in  the  first  place,  that  men  impose  on  them- 
selves respecting  their  own  character;  or. that  the  heart 
practises  a  deception  in  regard  to  its  natural  tendency 
and  disposition.  The  human  heart  is  a  great  deep  : — a 
deep  so  turbid  by  sin  and  agitated  by  passion  that  we 
cannot  look  into  it  far  ;  a  deep  which  no  line  yet  has  been 
long  enough  to  fathom.  I  believe  that  the  true  represen- 
tation of  the  human  heart  is  in  the  Bible,  and  that  the 
hearts  of  all  men  are  reflected  there.  The  account  in  the 
history  of  the  Bible  of  the  depravity  of  man  is  not  more 
humiliating  than  is  the  account  in  Tacitus  and  Sallust, 
m  Hume  and  in  Gibbon ;  the  account  in  the  Sacred  Poets 


CO  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

is  substantially  the  same  as  in  Shakespeare  and  Byron; 
the  account  given  by  Paul  is  the  same  that  you  will  find 
in  the  books  of  every  traveller  who  has  penetrated  the 
dark  regions  of  the  heathen  world.  You  admit  the  ac- 
count to  be  true  of  the  world  at  large,  of  other  men ;  you 
take  securities  of  others ;  you  put  padlocks  and  bolts  on 
your  stores;  you  guard  your  houses,  as  if  yon  believed 
it  Avere  true.  Others  believe  the  same  of  you ;  and  the 
Bible  holds  aU  to  be  substantially  alike — all  fallen  and 
ruined. 

And  yet  it  is  evident  that  men  do  not  by  nature  attri- 
bute to  themselves  the  character  which  is  given  of  the 
human  heart  in  the  Bible.  The  Christian  does.  He  be- 
lieves that  the  account  of  the  Bible  is  a  fair  representation 
of  his  own  heart  by  nature,  and  of  the  heart  of  every  other 
man.  He  has  no  more  doubt  of  it  than  he  has  that  the 
account  there  given  of  God  is  true.  He  has  learned  it  by 
bitter  experience ;  by  the  revelations  of  the  Spirit;  and  it 
is  to  him  a  truth  attested  by  many  scenes  of  repentance, 
and  by  many  tears.  But  the  mass  of  men  do  not  feel  so. 
Perhaps  you  could  scarcely  offer  a  more  signal  affront  to 
a  man — do  it  as  kindly  as  you  can — than  to  go  to  him, 
and  apply  to  hrm  as  an  individual,  the  account  of  the 
human  heart  in  the  Bible.  Who  will  bear  to  be  told, 
though  you  may  go  with  all  the  influence  of  the  tender 
relations  of  friendship,  and  all  the  influence  that  you  can 
take  with  you  from  any  oflicial  relation,  that  his  mind  is 
"  enmity  against  God  ,"  that  "  in  his  flesh  there  dwelleth 
no  good  thing;"  tliathe  "is  a  liater  of  God  ;"  that  he  is 
a  "  lover  of  pleasure  more  than  a  lover  of  God ;"  that  he 
is  "living  without  God  and  without  hope;"  that  his 
"heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked  ?"  You  will  hear  it  from  the  desk — for  (1.)  you 
believe  that  it  is  our  oflicial  duty  to  make  the  statement ; 
and  (2.)  the  statement  is  of  necessity  so  general  that  no 
one  feels  himself  particularly  intended.  But  would  you 
hear  it  from  me,  if  I  sliould  come  to  you  alone,  and  if  I 
should  make  the  statements  with  all  the  tenderness  that  I 
could  assume  ?  With  all  the  respect  which  you  might 
have  for  me  as  a  man  or  a  minister,  would  you  take  it 
kindly,  or  would  you  allow  it  ? 

As  this  is  a  matter  pertaining  to  personal  consciousness. 


THE   DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE   HEART.  61 

I  may  make  my  appeal  to  each  individual.  Is  this  the 
estimate  which  you  have  placed  on  yourselves?  Does 
your  view  of  your  own  heart  accord  with  that  which  is 
given  of  the  heart  in  the  Bible  ?  Or  is  not  the  following 
rather  the  estimate  which  you  have  formed  of  yourselves: 
That  you  are  moral,  and  amiable,  and  true,  and  just. 
That  your  imperfections — for  all  have  them — are  rather 
of  the  head  than  of  the  heart,  and  that  your  general  aim 
is  right  and  pure.  That  the  original  and  prevailing  bent 
of  your  mind  is  to  goodness  rather  than  to  sin ;  and  that 
you  have  greatly  cultivated  and  improved  this  original 
tendency,  and  have  added  much  to  it  that  claims  the  con- 
filence  and  love  of  your  friends  and  of  the  world.  That 
though  you  have  been  guilty  of  fauUs,  yet  they  are  minor 
faults,  iaw  in  number,  and  far  between,  that  they  have 
been  more  than  corrected  and  compensated  by  a  subse- 
quent life  of  virtue ;  that  they  were  not  owing  to  any 
natural  tendency  to  evil,  but  to  your  time  of  life,  to  the 
strength  of  temptation,  or  to  a  temperament  signally  sus- 
ceptible and  ardent.  That  you  have  a  right  to  the  con- 
fidence of  the  world  at  large — having  wronged  no  man, 
defrauded  no  man,  killed  no  man,  corrupted  no  man, 
slandered  no  man,  and  that  the  integrity  of  your  charac- 
ter is  not  to  be  called  in  question.  That  the  charges  in 
the  Bible  of  utter  and  total  depravity,  if  applied  to  you, 
are  harsh  and  severe  ;  and  that  the  plan  of  salvation,  pro- 
ceeding on  the  supposition  of  the  utter  ruin  and  corrup- 
tion of  man,  is  unnecessary  for  you — however  needful  it 
may  be  for  others — and  is  to  be  regarded  by  you  as 
medicine  is  by  those  in  health.  It  is  valuable  for  those 
who  are  diseased ;  it  is  unnecessary  for  the  well.  If  such 
bs  your  belief,  then  I  need  not  say  there  is  a  radical  dif- 
ference between  your  views  and  those  of  the  Bible  about 
your  natural  character,  and  your  need  of  a  Saviour. 

Is  it  not  possible  that  your  heart  has  deceived  you  on 
this  point  ?  Let  me  suggest  a  few  things  for  your  consi- 
deration. 

One  is,  that  if  the  Bible  be  true,  there  is  no  such  native 
excellence  of  character  as  you  suppose  you  possess ; — for 
in  the  most  solemn  manner,  the  Bible  declares  the  whole 
race  to  be  guilty,  and  ruined,  and  lost ; — and  the  Bible 
has  such  evidences  of  its  truth  and  its  divine  origin  as 

6 


62  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

should  lead  you  to  suppose  it  possible  that  its  account  of 
the  human  character  is  correct. 

Another  consideration  is,  that  multitudes  of  men  who 
once  had  the  same  view  of  themselves  which  you  have, 
have  been  convinced  of  their  error,  and  have  been  led  to 
accord  with  the  account  in  the  Bible.  I  allude  to  those 
who  are  now  Christians.  Once  they  were  just  as  confi- 
dent of  their  native  purity  as  you  are.  They  trusted  just 
as  much  in  their  uprightness  and  integrity.  They  were 
just  as  much  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  natural  de- 
pravity. They  cultivated  the  virtues  and  the  graces  of 
life,  just  as  much  and  as  successfully  as  you  do.  Many 
of  them  were  upright,  and  moral,  and  honorable  in  the 
sight  of  men.  They  moved  in  the  circles  of  fashion  and 
of  honor ;  they  had'  the  confidence  of  the  world ;  they 
were  without  a  stain  on  their  external  character ;  they 
thought,  as  you  do,  that  their  hearts  were  pure,  and  that 
the  charges  in  the  Bible  were  singularly  harsh  and  un- 
kind. But  they  have  changed  their  opinions.  They 
have  seen  their  hearts  in  a  different  light.  They  now 
admit  that  all  that  the  Bible  said  of  their  hearts  was  true; 
and  have  yielded  themselves  to  the  overpowering  evi- 
dence that  they  are  by  nature  wholly  prone  to  sin.  Now, 
if  they  were  deceived,  you  may  be  also.  If  they  are  now 
right  in  their  views  you  are  wrong.  If  their  present  es- 
timate of  character  be  correct,  there  is  no  such  native  ten- 
dency to  goodness  as  you  suppose,  and  you  are  deceived. 
They  are  among  your  best  friends,  and  they  have  not 
assumed  this  new  position  from  any  desire  to  impose  on 
others ;  but  they  have  been  constrained  to  it  because  they 
saw  it  was  true. 

Another  consideration  is,  that  there  is  nothing  easier 
than  to  deceive  ourselves  in  this  matter.  You  have  cer- 
tain traits  of  character  which  are  in  themselves  well 
enough,  and  which  may  be  commendable,  and  you  exalt 
them  in  the  place  of  others  which  God  requires.  You 
have  a  disposition  that  is  naturally  amiable  and  inof- 
fensive. So  has  a  lamb,  and  a  dove.  Is  this  the  love  of 
God  ?  Is  that  what  the  law  requires  ?  You  are  honest 
and  upright  towards  men.  Is  this  the  love  of  the  Creator, 
and  is  this  to  be  a  substitute  for  repentance  and  faith  ? 
How  inconclusive  is  the  reasoning  that  is  secretly  going 


THE   DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE   HEART.  63 

on  ill  your  mind  on  this  subject.     '  I  have  wronged  no 
man,  therefore,  I  am  the  friend  of  God.    I  am  amiable, 
accomphshed,  true,  therefore,  my  want  of  love  to  God 
may  be  excused.  I  am  kind  to  others,  therefore,  I  need 
not  pray,  and  if  I  neither  pray  nor  worship  my  Maker, 
nor  love  my  Redeemer,  I  shall  be  saved.'     Is  it  not  pos- 
sible also  to  conceal  offensive  points  of  character  from 
yourselves  and  from  the  world  ?     Many  an  individual  is 
refined  and  courteous  in  a  circle  like  that  in  which  you 
move,  who  would  be  a  profane  man  or  a  gambler,  a 
drunkard  or  a  freebooter,  were  these  restraints  thrown 
off.     Nay,  I  can  conceive  that  a  man  may  appear  very 
courteous,  and   refined,  and  virtuous  here,  and   in  an 
hour  afterwards,  with  the  dissolute  and  profane,  may 
evince  a  totally  difierent  character.     Much  of  the  virtue 
of  this  world  is  the  creation  of  circumstances,  not  the  re- 
sult of  principle^and  is,  therefore,  no  virtue  at  all.  Many 
a  man  aims  to  conceal  not  to  eradicate  the  evil  of  his 
heart ;  and  his  smooth  exterior,  his  plausible  address,  his 
winning  manners,  are   the  result  of  that  concealment. 
Years  ma}^  pass  before  the  hidden  fire  shall  burn,  and 
before  the  depravity  of  the  soul  shall  manifest  itself  by 
some  tremendous  deed  of  open  guilt. — Again :  we  are 
flattered.     Our  parents  flatter  us ;  our  friends  do  it ;  we 
do  it  ourselves.     We  love  it.     Our  beauty,  our  strength, 
our  skill  in  music,  our  accomplishments,  our  learning  are 
praised.     Somebody  will  praise  us ;  and  we  lay  the  flat- 
tering unction  to  the  soul,  and  believe  it,  and  feed  upon 
it,  and  love  it.     We  substitute  this  in  the  place  of  virtue, 
and  forget  while  we  drink  it  in  that  the  Bible  has  said 
that  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God.    And  it  mat- 
ters not  whence  it  comes,  or  how  valueless  it  may  be  in 
its  source,  or  scarcely  how  bad  may  be  the  intention  with 
which  it  is  done.     It  is  acceptable  to  us  always ;  it  is  ac- 
ceptable to  us  all.     Praise, 

"  what  heart  of  man 
Is  proof  against  thy  sweet  seducing  charms! 
Praise  from  the  rivelled  lips  of  toothless,  bald 
Decrepitude,  and  in  (he  looks  of  lean 
And  craving  poverty,  and  in  the  bow 
Respectful  of  the  smutched  artificer, 
Is  oft  too  welcome,  and  may  disturb 
The  bias  of  the  purpose.     How  much  more, 


64  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Pourf^d  forth  by  beauty  splendid  and  polite 

In  language  soft  as  adoration  breathes ! 

Ah  !  spare  your  idol !  think  him  human  still. 

Task,  B.  II. 

Another  thought.     Are  you  not  deceived  in  your  esti- 
mate of  your  own  character  in  regard  to  the  love  of  virtue. 
Let  me  ask  a  few  plain  questions.     You  say  you  love 
truth.     Why  then  resist  the  truth  as  designed  to  hear  on 
your  own  heart  and  to  show  you  what  you  are?     You 
are  amiable.     Why  not  then  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? 
Has  there  been  any  one   among  men  more  amiable  or 
lovely  than  he  ?     You  love  purity.     Why  not  then  love 
God  ?     Is  there  any  one  more  pure  than  he  ?     You  are 
aiming  to  do  right.     Why  then  do  you  not  pray  in  the 
closet,  and  in  the  family,  as  you  know  you  ought  to  do  ? 
You  are  not  opposed,  you  say,  to  God  and  his  religion. 
Why  then  do  you  not  embrace  his  gospel,  and  avow  your 
attachment  to  him  in  the  face  of  the  world  ?     Does  the 
child  that  loves  a  father  neglect  his  commands  ?    Does  he 
flee  from  his  presence  when  he  calls  him  ?    Does  he  min- 
gle with  his  enemies,  and  choose  that  his  name  should  be 
with  his  revilers  ?     You  have  done  no  wrong.    Will  you 
tell  me  then  why  you  are  afraid  to  die  ?     Why  are  you 
afraid  of  God  and  of  the  judgment  seat  ?     What  has  in- 
nocence to  fear  in  death,  or  in  the  world  beyond  ?    What 
has  a  guiltless  man  to  dread  at  the  bar  of  a  holy  God  ? 
You  are  deceived.    The  paleness,  and  the  terror,  and  the 
alarm  of  a  dying  man  always  prove  that  there  is  guilt 
within,  and  that  he  has  something  to  dread  after  death. 
Few  men  know  themselves.     In  all  communities  there  is 
many  a  man  who  regards  himself  as  a  paragon  of  humi- 
lity who  is  a  model  of  pride ;  many  a  one  who  supposes 
he  has  no  hostility  to   the  Saviour,  who  would  have 
joined  in  the  cry  "  crucify  him ;"  and  many  a  man  who 
supposes  that  his  character  is  pure  and  his  heart  upright, 
who  in  other  circumstances  would  show  that  that  heart 
is  a  fountain  of  corruption,  and  is  filled  with  evil. 

II.  Men  deceive  themselves  in  regard  to  their  real  at- 
tachments. The  remarks  which  I  have  to  make  under  this 
head  and  the  others  which  follow,  will  partake  of  the  na- 
ture of  illustrations  of  the  fact  already  adverted  to,  that 
men  deceive  themselves  in  regard  to  their  character,  and 


THE  DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  65 

may  be  much  more  brief  than  the  remarks  under  the  first 
head.  Men  deceive  themselves  in  regard  to  their  real  at- 
tachments. They  usually  flatter  themselves  that  they  have 
no  improper  attachment  to  their  friends,  to  their  children, 
to  the  world,  to  fashion,  to  fame,  to  property,  to  their 
pursuits.  They  think  they  hold  to  the  doctrines  of  reli- 
gion, and  that  they  are  not  insensible  to  its  claims.  They 
are  not  infidels ;  tliey  are  not  at  heart  opposed  to  the  gos- 
pel. Is  this  so  ?  Or  are  they  allowing  their  hearts  to  im- 
pose on  themselves  ? 

You  think  you  have  no  undue  attachment  to  a  child. 
When  the  great  Giver  of  life  takes  this  child  back  to  him- 
self, are  you  willing  to  part  with  it  ?  Are  there  no  feel- 
ings of  murmuring  when  you  see  that  lovely  babe  be- 
yond human  help  sinking  in  death  ?  Is  the  heart  always 
calm  and  submissive  when  the  son  advancing  to  man- 
hood— soon  to  be  your  pride  and  your  stay,  or  the 
daughter  blooming  like  the  rose,  is  suddenly  cut  down 
like  the  flower  of  the  field  ?  Is  the  eye  serene  ;  and  is 
there  no  murmur  tremulous  on  the  lip  ;  or  no  suppressed 
complaining  in  the  heart  ?  Does  the  sufferer  always  then 
say  "  the  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away, 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord?"  Not  always  thus.  "  I 
am  thankful,"  said  one  mother,  when  she  lest  a  lovely 
child — in  her  view  then  the  most  lovely  of  all  her  chil- 
dren— "  I  am  thankful  that  God  has  done  his  icorst.^^ 
Another  fell  in  death,  and  she  murmured  still.  A  third 
also  died — and  she  felt  that  the  Lord  had  more  that  he 
could  do — and  then,  taught  to  acquiesce,  and  brought  to 
love  him,  she  cheerfully  said,  "  the  Lord  gave,  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  his  holy  name." 

You  think  you  have  no  undue  attachment  to  wealth. 
How  do  you  feel  when  you  are  embarrassed  and  when 
others  are  prospered  ?  When  wind,  and  tide,  and  fire, 
aixl  tempest  are  against  you,  and  when  others  grow  rich  ? 
When  your  property  takes  to  itself  wings  and  flees  aAvay, 
while  others  are  enjoying  the  smiles  of  Heaven  ?  How 
do  you  feel  when  you  are  asked  to  aid  the  cause  of  hu- 
manity with  a  portion  of  your  wealth  ?  How  do  you 
estimate  that  property  when  compared  with  the  wants  of 
the  world  ?  Tliere  are  the  poor,  and  the  ignorant,  and 
the  down-trodden  whom  you  might  relieve.     There  is  a 

6* 


'66  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

dying  world  in  want  of  schools,  and  Bibles,  and  churches, 
and  a  preached  gospel?  There  are  millions  of  benighted 
men  ;  millions  under  oppression  ;  milhons  in  slavery  ;  mil- 
lions Avho  are  the  miserable  victims  of  sensuality  and 
vice — and  a  portion  of  your  property  might  aid  to  set  the 
captive  free,  and  to  open  the  prisons  of  them  that  are 
bound,  and  to  knock  off  the  chains  of  servitude,  and  to 
relieve  suffering  nations,  and  to  proclaim  salvation  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  Do  you  esteem  any  or  all  of  these  ob- 
jects as  at  all  comparable  in  value  with  the  wealth  which 
you  hold  in  your  hands?  And  if  you  do  not,  have  you 
not  affixed  an  inordinate  estimate  to  that  wealth,  and 
formed  an  attachment  for  it  which  God  cannot  approve  ? 

You  think  you  have  no  undue  attachment  to  the  world, 
and  that  in  the  influence  which  that  world  has  over  you, 
you  are  showing  no  disrespect  to  the  commands  of  God. 
Let  me  ask  you,  is  any  pleasure  abandoned  because  he 
commands  it  ?  Is  any  place  of  amusement  forsaken  be- 
cause he  wills  it  ?  Do  you  listen  to  the  voice  of  God 
when  he  warns  you  against  the  seductive  influence  of  the 
theatre,  the  ball-room,  and  the  pursuit  of  gain,  and  of 
ambition  ?  Are  they  not  pursued  as  if  there  were  no  God, 
and  as  if  you  were  never  to  give  account  ? 

You  suppose  you  have  some  attachment  to  Christians, 
and  to  the  Christian  religion.  You  would  be  shocked  and 
offended  to  be  called  an  atheist,  an  infidel,  a  scoffer.  You 
admit  the  Bible  to  be  true,  and  mean  to  be  found  among 
the  number  of  those  who  hold  that  its  doctrines  are  from 
Heaven.  Yet  does  the  heart  never  deceive  you  in  this  ? 
Is  not  this  the  truth — for  I  make  my  appeal  to  your 
own  consciousness?  You  admit  the  doctrines  of  the 
Bible  to  be  true  in  general ;  you  deny  them  in  detail. 
The  doctrine  of  total  depravity  as  taught  in  the  Bible, 
and  as  applicable  to  yourself — do  you  believe  it  ?  The 
necessity  of  regeneration  in  order  to  be  saved — do  ^^-ou 
believe  it?  The  fact  that  you  can  be  saved  onl}^  by 
the  merits  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  not  by  morals,  and 
by  amiableness,  and  an  upright  life — do  you  believe  it  ? 
The  doctrine  of  the  eternal  punishment  of  the  wicked — 
do  you  believe  it  ?  Step  by  step,  and  point  by  point, 
we  might  go  over  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  and  as 
we  go  along,  the  heart,  if  honest,  would  answer,  *  No, 


THE  DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE   HEART.  67 

I  believe  none  of  tliese  tilings.  I  am  not  as  guilty  and 
corrupt  OS  the  Bible  says  I  am;  I  am  not  in  danger  of 
eternal  sorrow  ;  I  do  not  deserve  the  unending  wrath  of 
God  ;' — and  the  heart  has  deceived  you. 

You  think  you  have  no  particular  opposition  to  the 
duties  of  religion.  But  is  not  this  the  truth  ?  You  admit 
the  obligation  in  general ;  you  deny  it  in  detail.  Let  me 
ask  you,  Do  you  pray  ?  Do  you  conscientiously  read  the 
Bible  ?  Do  you  repent  of  your  past  sins  ?  Do  you  believe 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  Do  you  profess  his  name  be- 
fore men  ?  Do  you  celebrate  his  death  ?  Do  you  take  up 
the  cross  ?  Do  you  cultivate  meekness,  and  spirituality, 
and  heavenly-mindedness?  Do  you  live  for  heaven,  and 
for  eternity,  and  for  God  ?  Step  by  step,  and  point  by 
point,  we  might  go  over  the  catalogue  of  Christian  duties, 
and  as  we  go  along  the  conscience  would  answer,  '  No ; 
I  do  none  of  these  things.  Not  one  of  the  duties  of  the 
Christian  religion  do  I  perform  as  I  know  the  Bible  re- 
quires. Not  one  am  I  willing  noiv  to  do.'  The  heart  has 
deceived  you  in  this.  Am  I  saying  more  than  your  own 
consciences  will  bear  witness  to  when  I  say  that  there  is 
no  argument,  and  no  eloquence  that  could  induce  3^ou 
this  night  to  kneel  down  before  God  and  pray? 

III.  In  the  third  place,  the  heart  is  deceitful  in  regard 
to  its  power  of  resisting  temptation.  In  the  halcyon  days 
of  youth  and.  inexperience,  we  think  that  we  are  proof 
against  all  the  forms  of  allurement,  and  w^e  listen  with 
no  pleasureable  emotions  to  those  who  would  warn  us  of 
danger.  Experience  and  aged  wisdom  find  it  not  easy  to 
get  and  retain  the  ear  of  the  young  while  they  portray 
the  dangers  of  the  youthful  course,  and  warn  against  the 
alluring  customs  of  the  world.  And  the  reason  is  plain. 
Those  whom  we  would  admonish  have  had  no  expe- 
rience ;  and  they  suspect  no  danger.  They  confide  in 
their  own  powers ;  they  see  before  them  a  smooth  ocean 
on  which  they  expect  to  glide  without  danger.  A  gallant 
ship  with  her  sails  all  set  leaves  the  port.  She  is  new ; 
and  her  virgin  sails  have  not  before  been  fanned  by  the 
breeze.  The  gale  springs  up,  and  gently  swells  all  her 
canvass.  Before  her  is  the  vast  ocean — spread  out  as  if  to 
invite  her.  On  her  deck  stands  the  young  mariner — 
fresh  from  his  home ;  buoyant  with  hope ;  his  glad  eye 


68  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

looking  out  on  the  new  scene  as  the  ship  dances  from 
wave  to  wave  ;  and  his  heart  beats  with  joy.  How  chill- 
ing now ;  how  cold ;  how  incongruous,  is  it  for  the 
weather-beaten  seaman — the  man  of  many  voyages,  to 
come  and  tell  of  rocks,  and  quicksands,  and  whirlpools, 
and  furious  tempests.  How  incongruous  to  suggest  that 
the  seams  may  open,  or  the  canvass  be  stripped  to  ribbons, 
or  that  some  unseen  current  may  drift  that  beautiful  ves- 
sel into  unknown  seas,  where  she  may  lie  becalmed, 

"  Day  after  day,  day  after  day, 
With  neither  breath  nor  motion  ; 
As  idle  as  a  painted  ship, 
Upon  a  painted  ocean." 

So  we  Start  on  the  voyage  of  hfe.  We  flatter  ourseh^es 
that  we  are  able  to  meet  temptation.  We  confide  in  the 
strength  of  our  principles.  We  trust  to  the  sincerity  of 
our  own  hearts.  Guileless  ourselves — I  do  not  mean  guilt- 
less in  the  sense  that  we  have  no  propensities  to  evil, 
but  guileless  in  the  sense  of  sincere  and  confiding — we 
suspect  no  fraud  in  others.  Suspicion  is  not  the  charac- 
teristic of  youth.  It  is  the  unhappy  work  of  experience  ; 
the  influence  that  comes  into  our  hearts,  notwithstanding 
all  our  efforts  to  resist  it,  from  long  acquaintance  with  the 
insincerity  of  mankind.  The  world  flatters  us,  and  a 
thousand  temptations  adapted  with  consummate  skill  to 
the  young,  allure  us.  Professed  friends  meet  us  on  the 
way  and  assure  us  that  there  is  no  danger.  The  gay,  the 
fashionable,  the  rich,  the  winning,  the  beautiful,  the  ac- 
complished, invite  us  to  tread  with  them  the  path  of  plea- 
sure, and  to  doubt  the  suggestions  of  experience  and  of 
age.  We  feel  confident  of  our  own  safety.  We  suppose 
we  may  tread  securely  a  little  further.  We  see  no  danger 
near.  ,  We  take  another  step  still,  and  yet  another,  think- 
ing that  we  are  safe  yet.  We  have  tried  our  virtuous 
principles,  and  thus  far  they  bear  the  trial.  We  could  re- 
treat if  we  would  ;  we  mean  to  retreat  the  moment  that 
danger  comes  near.  But  who  knows  the  power  of 
temptation  ?  Who  knows  when  dangers  shall  rusli  upon 
us  so  that  we  cannot  escape  ?  There  is  a  dividing  line 
between  safety  and  danger.  Above  thundering  Niagara 
the  river  spreads  out  into  a  broad  and  tranquil  basin. 


THE  DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  69 

All  is  calm,  and  the  current  flows  gently  on,  and  there 
even  a  light  skifl"  may  be  guided  in  safety.  You  may 
glide  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  rapids,  admiring  the  beauty 
of  the  shore,  and  looking  on  the  ascending  spray  of  the 
cataract,  and  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  distant  waters, 
and  be  happy  in  the  consciousness  that  you  are  safe. 
You  may  go  a  little  further,  and  may  have  power  still  to 
ply  the  oar  to  reach  the  bank.  But  there  is  a  point  be- 
yond which  human  power  is  vain,  and  where  the  mighty 
waters  shall  seize  the  quivering  bark,  and  bear  it  on  to 
swift  destruction.  So  perishes  many  a  young  man  by  the 
power  of  temptation.  You  may  drink  a  social  glass,  you 
think,  with  a  friend  and  be  safe.  One  more  glass,  and 
you  may  be  safe  still,  and  another  may  be  taken,  you 
think,  without  danger.  You  may  go  to  a  theatre  once, 
you  suppose,  and  be  safe.  You  may  be  pleased,  and  think 
you  may  go  again,  and  be  safe  still.  You  are  fascinated 
with  the  scenery,  the  action,  the  sentiment — and  you  go 
again.  The  acting,  the  sentiment,  is  not  such  as  you  saw 
and  heard  at  the  fire-side  of  your  childhood ;  not  such  as 
a  mother  would  love  ;  not  quite  such  as  you  would  wish 
a  sister  to  see.  It  is  indelicate,  as  you  would  once  have 
thought  indelicate  :  and  profane,  as  you  now  think  pro- 
fane. There  are  men  and  women  there  whom  you  would 
not  like  to  see  at  your  father's  fire-side,  and  whom  you 
would  not  allow  to  associate  with  a  sister.  You  will  be 
sensible  of  less  and  less  horror  at  the  indelicacy  and  pro- 
faneness  there.  There  is  a  point  where  no  young  man 
is  safe  ;  and  where  no  unconverted  heart  is  secure  from 
the  power  of  temptation.  I  need  not  describe  the  result. 
0?ie  allurement  does  not  stand  alone.  None  have  been 
injured  by  staying  away  from  such  scenes.  But  0,  how 
many  hearts  have  been  broken  as  the  result  of  a  visit  to 
such  a  place  of  allurement ! 

So  you  may  go  to  a  gambling  room,  you  suppose,  and 
be  safe.  Of  playing  yourself  you  have  no  intention.  Of 
the  place,  the  business  you  may  have  a  deep  abhorrence. 
But  your  friend  plays  and  wins ;  and  plays  and  wins 
again.  With  the  same  feelings  you  may  go  again.  You 
feel  still  safe.  You  have  no  desire,  no  intention  to  play. 
But  for  pastime  you  venture  a  trifle — and  win — and  you 
\rin  again  and  again,  and  begin  to  play  deep — and  you 


70  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

begin  to  lose — and  are  in  debt — and  wish  to  recover  all — 
and  are  now  seized  by  fiends  in  human  shape  who  de- 
signed to  devote  yon  to  poverty,  to  despair,  to  cursing, 
and  to  hell. — When  Elisha  the  prophet  met  Hazael  bear- 
ing a  present  to  him  from  Ben-hadad  of  Syria,  the  man 
of  God  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  messenger,  and  wept. 
Why  dost  thou  weep  ?  said  Hazael.  Because,  said  the 
prophet,  I  know  the  evil  that  thou  will  do  unto  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel.  Their  strong  holds  wilt  thou  set  on  fire, 
and  their  young  men  wilt  thou  slay  with  the  sword. 
But  what,  said  Hazael,  is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  he  should 
do  this  thing?  2  Kings,  viii.  13.  Scarce  had  he  turned 
from  the  prophet  before  he  murdered  the  King  his  mas- 
ter, and  ascended  the  throne,  and  was  all  that  the  prophet 
said  he  would  be. 

And  who  can  tell  what  he  would  be  if  subjected  to 
temptation?  Look  upon  the  wretched  and  abandoned 
profligate.  See  the  ruined  gambler,  the  counterfeiter,  the 
drunkard,  the  murderer.  Once  they  were  what  you  are, 
confident  in  the  strength  of  their  virtue,  with  hearts 
bounding  with  hope,  and  with  eyes  bright  with  the  visions 
of  future  honor  and  bliss.  Far  from  the  scenes  of  riot  and 
dissipation :  far  from  the  gambling  room,  the  theatre,  the 
house  of  her  "  whose  steps  take  hold  on  hell,"  is  the  path 
of  safety.  And  if  I  address  any  who  are  now  sailing 
along  on  the  stream  of  pleasure,  thinking  that  no  danger 
is  near,  I  conjure  you  while  manly  strength  remains,  to 
ply  the  oar  and  to  reach  the  bank.  As  you  value  health, 
property,  reputation,  usefulness,  heaven;  as  you  value 
the  happiness  of  father,  mother,  sister,  wife,  or  child ;  as 
you  regard  the  tears  which  a  broken-hearted  mother  may 
shed  over  your  grave,  or  the  sorrows  of  a  father  whose 
heart  may  burst  with  swelling  grief;  as  you  would  not 
bring  down  their  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  or 
your  own  soul  to  death,  I  conjure  you  never  to  approach 
again  the  place  of  temptation.  Be  sufficiently  independ- 
ent to  act  the  man.  Let  conscience,  and  reason,  and  the 
law  of  God  direct  your  steps  ;  and  with  virtue,  reputation, 
happiness,  heaven  in  the  eye,  dare  to  say  to  temptation 
and  the  tempter,  '  Henceforward  I  heed  not  your  voice. 
1  tvill  be  a  man.    I  walk  no  more  in  the  ways  of  sin.     I 


THE  DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE   HEART.  71 

tread  no  farther  the  path  where  many  have  fallen  to  rise 
no  more.' 

IV.  Once  more.  The  heart  deceives  itself  in  its  pro- 
mises of  reformation  and  amendment.  I  cannot  dwell  on 
this.  Permit  me  to  ask  of  you,  how  many  resolutions  you 
have  formed  to  repent  and  be  a  Christian — all  of  which 
have  failed.  How  many  times  have  you  promised 
yourself,  your  friends,  and  God,  that  you  would  forsake 
the  ways  of  sin  and  live  for  heaven — all  of  which 
have  failed.  How  often  have  you  fixed  the  time  when 
you  would  do  this  ?  And  yet  that  time  has  come  and 
gone  unimproved.  At  one  time  you  resolved  to  repent 
and  be  a  Christian  when  you  had  enjoyed  a  little  longer 
the  ways  of  sin.  God  granted  you  the  desires  of  your 
heart,  but  the  time  has  not  come  when  you  were  willing 
to  be  his.  At  another  time  you  resolved  to  repent 
should  you  be  laid  on  a  sick  bed.  You  were  sick,  but 
you  then  found — what  you  will  always  find — that  a  sick 
bed  is  no  good  place  to  prepare  to  die.  Then  you  re- 
solved, and  in  solemn  covenant  promised  God,  that  if  you 
should  recover  you  would  devote  your  life  to  him.  You 
rose  from  your  bed,  and  you  forgot  him.  At  one  time 
you  resolved  to  be  a  Christian  when  you  should  be  set- 
tled in  life  ;  then  when  you  had  more  leisure;  then  when 
the  cares  of  life  should  cease.  At  twenty,  at  thirty,  at 
forty,  at  fifty  years  of  age  you  may  have  resolved  to  turn 
to  your  Maker  should  you  reach  those  periods — but  on 
some  of  you  the  snows  of  winter  have  fallen,  and  yet  a 
deceitful  and  a  deceived  heart  is  pointing  you  to  some  fu- 
ture period  still.  It  deceived  you  in  childhood;  it  deceived 
you  in  youth ;  it  deceived  you  in  manhood  ;  it  deceives 
you  in  old  age.  It  has  always  deceived  you  as  often  as 
you  have  trusted  it  in  all  circumstances  of  life — and  yet 
you  trust  it  still.  It  has  deceived  you  often er  than  you 
have  been  deceived  by  any  and  all  other  things — oftener 
than  we  are  deceived  by  the  false  friend ;  oftener  than  the 
traveller  is  deceived  by  his  faithless  guide;  oftener  than 
the  caravan  is  deceived  by  the  vanished  brook ;  oftener 
than  the  bow  deceives  the  hunter  ;  oftener  than  you  have 
been  deceived  by  any  and  all  other  men.  There  is  no 
man  whom  you  have  not  trusted  more  safely  than  your 
own  heart ;  no  object  in  nature  that  has  been  as  faithless 


72  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

as  that : — and  I  appeal  to  you  if  it  is  not  deceitful  above 
all  things. 

In  conclusion,  I  make  three  remarks  : 
(1.)  There  is  danger  of  losing  the  soul.  The  heart  has 
deceived  you  in  all  the  journey  of  life  thus  far ;  it  has  de- 
ceived you  on  all  the  points  pertaining  to  salvation ;  it  is 
'still  deceiving  you.  It  has  deceived  you  about  your  own 
character ;  about  your  real  objects  of  attachment ;  about 
your  power  to  resist  temptation ;  about  your  resolutions 
for  eternity.  It  has  deceived  you  whenever  and  wherever 
you  have  trusted  it  on  these  points,  and  it  is  now  deluding 
you  with  vain  promises  and  expectations  about  the  future. 
What  shall  hinder  it  from  playing  this  same  game  till 
death  shall  close  the  scene,  and  you  shall  go  to  a  world 
where  delusions  are  unknown  ? 

(2.)  The  heart  of  man  is  wicked.  You  have  a  heart 
which  you  yourself  can.not  trust.  It  has  always  deceived 
you.  You  have  a  heart  which  your  fellow-men  will  not 
trust.  They  secure  themselves  by  notes,  and  bonds,  and 
mortgages,  and  oaths,  and  locks,  and  bolts ; — and  they 
will  not  trust  you  without  thom.  You  have  a  heart 
which  God  regards  as  deceitful  and  depraved,  and  in 
Avhich  he  puts  no  confidence,  and  which  he  has  declared 
to  be  "desperately  wicked."  But  who  does  confide  in 
the  heart  of  man  ?  The  tempter,  the  seducer,  the  Devil. 
The  tempter  knows  that  men  may  be  led  astray.  The 
seducer  knows  that  allurements  may  be  presented  so 
strong  as  to  undermine  our  virtue,  and  lead  us  to  ruin. 
And  the  great  adversary  of  God,  practised  in  wiles,  and 
understanding  fully  the  human  heart,  knows  tliat  that 
heart  may  be  led  into  sin.  And  I  ask  whether  that 
heart  in  which  neither  God  nor  man;  in  which  neither 
we  nor  our  friends  can  put  confidence,  is  a  heart  that  is 
good  and  pure  ?  Is  it  such  a  heart  as  is  fitted  for  heaven  ? 
I  answer  no — and  you  respond  to  my  own  deep  convic- 
tion when  I  say  it  must  be  renewed. 

(3.)  Finally,  I  would  warn  you  affectionately  of  dan- 
ger. I  would  conjure  you  to  wake  from  these  delusions 
to  the  reality  of  your  condition.  I  would  beseech  you  to 
look  at  truth,  and  be  no  longer  under  the  control  of  a  de- 
ceived and  a  deceitful  heart.  Life  is  too  short  to  be  play- 
ing such  a  game.     There  are  too  great  interests  at  stake 


THE  DECEITFULNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  73 

to  be  thus  the  prey  of  deUisions.  Death  and  the  grave 
cannot  be  made  a  foot-ball  with  which  to  amuse  ourselves ; 
nor  are  heaven  and  hell  mere  creations  of  the  fancy.  Of 
all  places,  the  earth  is  the  least  proper  to  be  made  the 
scene  of  deceptions.  In  the  world  of  despair — if  delusion 
were  possible — it  would  mitigate  pain,  and  would  endan- 
ger nothing.  Nothing  there  can  be  worse,  even  in  ima- 
ghiation,  than  the  reality.  But  here  every  thing  is  at 
stake.  You  play  and  sport  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice 
from  which  if  you  fall  you  rise  no  more.  Death  is  real ; 
and  the  grave  is  real ;  and  hell  is  real ;  and  the  judg- 
ment is  real.  Not  one  of  them  is  the  work  of  fancy ;  not 
one  can  be  changed  by  the  imagination.  It  will  be  no 
fiction  when  you  come  to  die ;  it  will  be  no  delusive  pa- 
geant when  you  shall  stand  at  the  judgment  seat ;  it  will 
be  no  day-dream  when  you  shall  hear  the  Judge  solemnly 
say,  "  Depart  accursed  into  everlasting  fire."  You  pass 
on  through  scenes  of  affecting  reality  to  another  world. 
0  go  not  to  awake  first  to  the  reality  of  the  scene  when 
these  eyes  shall  have  closed  on  all  the  vain  pageantry  ofi 
this  world,  and  when  you  will  have  awaked  from  your 
delusion  only  to  say  "  the  Jiarvest  is  passed,  the  summer 
is  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved." 


SERMON  V. 

INDECISION  IN    RELIGION. 

1  Kings  xviii.  21.  And  Elijah  came  unto  all  the  people  and  said,  How 
long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  1  If  the  Lord  be  God  follow  him : 
But  if  Baal,  then  follow  him. 

When  these  words  were  uttered,  the  ten  tribes  had  re- 
volted, and  had  estabUshed  a  kingdom  by  themselves. 
The  throne  was  occupied  by  Ahab,  a  prhice  distinguish- 
ed for  wickedness  and  impiety.  The  worship  of  Baal 
had  become  the  common  religion  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel, 
and  there  were  comparatively  few  worshippers  of  the 
true  God.  EUjah  assembled  the  prophets  of  Baal  at 
Mount  Carmel  for  the  purpose  of  testing,  by  a  public 
miracle,  the  question  whether  Jehovah  or  Baal  were  the 
proper  object  of  adoration.  In  regard  to  the  state  of 
things  existing  at  that  time  in  Israel,  we  may  remark — 

(1.)  That  a  large  portion  of  the  nation  was  decidedly 
inclined  to  the  worship  of  Baal.  That  worship  was 
patronized  and  countenanced  by  the  king  and  queen ; 
probably  by  most  of  the  royal  family,  and,  as  a  matter 
of  course  almost,  by  the  mass  of  the  people.  So  exten- 
sively did  that  worship  prevail,  that  it  was  easy  to  as- 
semble no  less  than  four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of 
Baal  on  this  occasion,  to  make  a  public  trial  of  the  ques- 
tion whether  Jehovah  or  Baal  were  the  true  God. 

(2.)  There  were  some  who  were  as  decidedly  the 
friends  of  Jehovah.  They  were  indeed  few  in  number. 
Elijah  thought  himself  alone  ;  and  was  greatly  disheart- 
ened at  the  thought  that  he  was  the  only  one  left  who 
acknowledged  the  true  God.  Yet  God  said  to  him  that 
he  had  reserved  to  himself  seven  thousand  men  who  had 
not  bowed  the  knee  to  the  image  of  Baal,  (1  Kings  xix. 
18 ;  Rom.  xi.  4) ;  thus  proving,  that  even  in  the  most 
discouras^ing  circumstances,  and  in  the  widest  prevalence 

74 


INDECISION    IN    RELIGION.  75 

of  irreligion,  there  may  be  more  real  pitty  than  the  de- 
sponding hearts  of  the  few  friends  of  God  may  suppose. 

(3.)  There  was  another,  and  evidently  a  large  class, 
that  was  undecided.  This  was  the  class  which  Elijah 
particularly  addressed  in  the  text.  They  were  hesitating 
and  doubting ;  they  were  undetermined  Avhether  to  ac- 
knowledge Jehovah  as  the  true  God,  or  whether  to  bow 
down  before  the  image  of  Baal.  What  was  the  ground 
of  their  hesitancy  we  are  not  informed,  but  it  is  not  im- 
proper to  suppose,  that  on  the  one  hand  they  were  in- 
clined to  the  worship  of  Baal  because  it  was  the  popular 
religion ;  because  it  was  patronized  by  the  sovereign  ; 
because  the  way  to  office  might  have  depended  on  con- 
formity to  it ;  and  because  it  imposed  few  restraints,  and 
permitted  great  license  in  the  indulgence  of  corrupt  pas- 
sions ; — and,  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  the  remem- 
brance of  what  Jehovah  had  done  for  their  fathers  ; 
there  was  the  conviction  of  conscience  that  his  religion 
was  pure  and  true  ;  and  there  were  his  solemn  commands 
to  worship  him  alone,  and  his  well-known  denunciations 
against  idolatry. 

This  class  particularly  Elijah  addressed.  He  called  on 
them  to  come  to  a  decision.  He  demanded  that  they 
should  make  up  their  minds,  and  come  to  some  settled 
determination  as  to  the  course  which  they  would  pursue. 
He  urged  that  if  Jehovah  was  the  true  God,  it  was  but 
reasonable  that  they  should  devote  themselves  with  un- 
divided affection  to  him.  If  Baal,  it  was  as  reasonable 
that  the  worship  that  was  due  to  him  should  not  be  with- 
neld,  and  that  they  should  not  approach  his  altars  with 
divided  hearts  and  with  wavering  minds.  Jehovah  or 
Baal,  whichever  was  the  true  God,  would  be  better 
\')leased  with  settled  views  and  determined  purposes,  than 
with  irresolution  and  indecision,  and  with  a  system  of 
worship  that  vibrated  between  one  and  the  other. 

The  doctrine  which  is,  therefore,  taught  in  this  pas- 
sage, is  the  unreasonableness  of  indecision  on  the  subject 
of  religion.     In  discoursing  on  it,  my  object  will  be, 

I.  To  classify  those  who  are  thus  undecided ;  and 

II.  To  urge  some  reasons  for  an  inniiediate  decision. 
1.  Those  who  are  thus  undecided  may  be  regarded  as 

comprising  the  following  classes. 


76  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

(1.)  Those  who  are  undecided  about  the  truth  or  re- 
ality of  rehgion  at  all,  or  of  any  system  of  religion. 
They  embrace  no  system  ;  they  make  no  pretensions  to 
any  religion.  They  are  lookers-on  in  the  world,  and  ob- 
servers of  the  various  forms  and  systems  of  worship, 
professing  liberality  to  all,  and  manifesting  a  preference 
for  none.  They  are  undetermined  whether  Christianity 
is  preferable  to  infidelity  ;  whether  Protestantism  is  pre- 
ferable to  the  Papacy  ;  whether  deism  is  preferable  to 
atheism ;  and  whether  any  form  of  paganism  is  not  as 
safe  as  the  purest  form  of  Christianity.  They  are  not 
decided  whether  the  system  which  proclaims  that  all  men 
will  be  saved  is  not  as  likely  to  be  true  as  that  which 
proclaims  that  "  the  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell''; 
nor  are  they  determined  in  their  own  minds  whether  it 
is  not  as  well  to  depend  on  their  own  morality  as  to  de- 
pend on  the  merits  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  They  con- 
form to  any  mode  of  worship  only  because  it  is  the  pre- 
vailing form,  and  for  the  same  reason  that  they  would 
have  been  Mussulmen  at  Mecca  or  Constantinople  ;  wor- 
shippers of  Confucius  in  China  ;  followei-s  of  Zoroaster 
in  Persia  ;  or  atheists  in  Paris,  amidst  the  scenes  of  the 
French  revolution. 

(2.)  A  second  class  is  composed  of  those  who  hesitate 
between  Christianity  and  infidelity.  On  the  one  hand, 
there  are  all  the  happy  effects  which  Christianity  pro- 
duces ;  and  all  the  arguments  from  miracle  and  prophecy 
in  its  favor  ;  and  all  the  influences  of  education  ;  all  the 
convictions  of  conscience,  and  all  the  offers  which  it 
makes  of  an  eternal  heaven  ; — and  on  the  other,  there  is 
all  the  force  of  the  difficulties  which  are  acknowledged 
to  exist  in  the  Bible  ;  all  the  reluctance  to  embrace  its 
great  and  incomprehensible  mysteries ;  all  the  influence 
of  pride  of  heart,  and  the  love  of  fancied  independence ; 
all  the  power  of  corrupting  passion,  and  the  desire  of 
indulgence  in  sin,  prompting  the  individual  to  cast  off 
the  restraints  of  religion ;  all  the  love  of  the  world ;  all 
the  force  of  ihe  fact  that  multitudes  of  the  great,  the  rich, 
the  scientific,  are  undei^stood  to  have  cast  off  Christianity, 
or  to  have  doubts  about  its  truth.  And  multitudes,  there- 
fore, are  in  a  state  of  avowed  or  secret  doubt,  and  are 
hesitating  whether  Christianity  be  true  or  false,  and  whe- 


# 


INDECISION    IN    RELIGION.  77 

ther  they  shall  embrace  that  system,  or  some  form  of  the 
almost  infinite  number  of  forms  in  which  infidehty  mani- 
fests itself  in  this  land. 

(3.)  There  are  those,  as  a  third  class,  who  are  awaken- 
ed to  see  their  guilt,  and  who  are  hesitating  about  giving 
up  their  hearts  to  God.  They  see  that  they  are  sinners. 
They  know  that  they  are  exposed  to  the  wrath  of  God. 
They  have  no  doubt  of  the  necessity  and  the  importance 
of  religion.  They  have  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity. They  have  long  thought  seriously  on  the  subject ; 
have  often  prayed  and  wept;  and  have  often  desired,  as 
they  supposed,  to  be  Christians.  Many  of  them  have 
been  trained  in  pious  families,  and  in  the  Sabbath-school ; 
and  they  have  often,  and  long,  and  deeply  felt  that  it  was 
necessary  for  them  to  be  born  again.  But  they  hesitate. 
There  is  the  love  of  some  sin  which  they  are  not  willing 
to  abandon ;  or  there  is  the  fear  of  shame,  and  the  ap- 
prehension of  derision ;  or  there  is  a  secret  unwillingness 
to  be  saved  by  the  mere  mercy  of  God,  femd  the  merit  of 
the  Saviour ;  or  there  is  a  disposition  to  defer  it  to  some 
future  period  ;  or  there  is  deep  absorption  in  the  business 
of  the  world ;  or  there  are  the  allurements  of  youthful 
pleasures ;  or  there  is  the  withering  influence  of  some  infi- 
del companion  that  ridicules  the  anxiety  of  the  soul,  and 
poisons  the  mind,  and  is  the  means  of  often  grieving  the 
Spirit  of  God. 

(4.)  A  fourth  class  is  made  up  of  those  wlio  are  con- 
stantly forming  resolutions  to  attend  to  the  subject  of 
religion,  and  to  become  decided  Christians.  Probably 
most  of  those  who  are  here  to-day,  who  have  travelled 
any  considerable  distance  on  the  journey  of  life,  can  re- 
collect many  such  resolutions  seriously  formed,  and  as 
often  disregarded  and  broken.  They  can  recall  many 
])eriods  of  their  youth,  when  their  minds  were  ten- 
der, and  when  they  were  almost  resolved  to  be  Chris- 
tians ;  many  periods  in  sickness  or  in  other  afflictions, 
when  they  proposed,  and  solemnly  promised  to  God  that 
they  Avould  live  to  his  glory ;  many  times  under  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  when  they  purposed  to  forsake 
their  sins,  and  give  themselves  to  God.  But  they  are 
still  undecided.  Their  vows,  and  purposes,  and  promises, 
are  forgotten.     Their  love  of  the  world  is  too  strong  for 


78  PRACTICAL    SERMONS, 

them  to  forsake  it  yet,  and  they  too  much  desire  the  in- 
dulgence of  sin  to  abandon  it,  and  live  a  life  of  piety. 
Notwithstanding  all  these  resolutions,  they  are  to-day  as 
undecided  as  they  were  years  ago,  and  perhaps  during 
many  years  they  have  come  no  nearer  to  a  decision. 

(5.)  A  fifth  class  is  made  up  of  those  who  are  unde- 
cided about  making  a  profession  of  religion.  That  it  is 
a  duty  they  feel  and  admit ;  and  it  is  a  duty  which 
they  often  purpose  to  perform.  Yet  one  opportunity 
passes  by  after  another,  and  they  are  not  prepared ;  one 
communion  occurs  after  another,  and  they  still  hesitate. 
There  is  the  admission  that  it  is  a  duty ;  there  is  a  set- 
tled purpose  to  do  it  at  some  period  of  life ;  but  there  is, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  fear  of  the  world,  or  the  love  of 
some  habit  that  could  not  be  indulged  in  consistently 
with  a  profession  of  Christianity,  or  there  is  the  plea 
that  they  are  unworthy,  or  that  they  would  not  be  able 
to  adorn  their  profession  ;  or  there  is  the  ever-ready 
plea — a  plea,  alas  !  answered  with  so  much  difficulty — 
that  many  professors  do  little  honor  to  their  high  calling. 
Thus  life  wears  away.  One  communion  season  passes 
after  another ;  and  one  year  rolls  on  after  another,  and 
in  the  mean  time  there  is  no  decision,  nor  is  there  any 
advance  made  towards  a  decision.  Many  an  individual 
can  look  back  over  a  dozen  or  a  score  of  years,  and 
find  that  during  that  period  he  has  made  no  advance  to- 
wards a  decision ;  and  some  even  on  whom  the  snows  of 
age  have  fallen,  have  been  agitating  this  question  during 
the  better  part  of  a  century,  and  are  now  going  down  to 
the  grave  still  halting  between  two  opinions.  In  the 
mean  time  their  name  is  with  the  world,  and  their  com- 
bined example  is  the  argument  to  which  the  wicked  ap- 
peal, that  men  may  be  as  good  out  of  the  church  as  in 
it,  and  that  if  such  persons  of  known  and  established 
character,  venerable  by  age,  and  respected  for  their  vir- 
tues, are  safe  unconnected  with  the  chnrch,  others  may 
be  also.  And  there  is  no  art  which  Satan  practices  that 
evinces  more  skill  and  cunning  than  in  retaining  such 
persons  on  what  is  deemed  neutral  ground,  and  in  pre- 
venting, by  a  thousand  pleas,  their  giving  their  names 
and  their  influence  to  the  cause  of  decided  piety,  and 
to  God. 


INDECISION    IN    RELIGION.  79 

These  are  the  persons  whom  I  wish  to  address.  I  have 
classified  them,  in  order  that  there  may  be  no  mistake  as 
to  who  I  mean ;  and  to  each  class,  and  each  individual, 
I  wish  to  address  some  remarks,  showing  the  unreasona- 
bleness of  remaining  in  this  condition,  and  urging  them 
to  an  immediate  decision — either  one  way  or  the  other. 
This  was  my 

II.  Second  object.*  Under  this  head,  assuming  mainly 
the  form  of  direct  address,  I  shall  urge  several  considera- 
tions as  reasons  why  a  decision  should  be  made  without 
delay. 

(1.)  The  first  is,  that  our  great  interests,  if  Ave  have 
any  great  interests,  or  any  that  are  much  worth  regard- 
ing, are  on  the  subject  of  religion.  If  this  he  so,  then 
religion  is  the  last  thing  that  should  remain  unsettled  and 
undetermined.  It  can  make  very  little  difference  to  a 
man,  whether  he  is  rich  or  poor ;  honored  or  despised  ; 
sick  or  well ;  a  bondman  or  a  slave.  Whether  there  is 
an  eternity  or  not,  these  things  are  comparatively  of 
trifling  moment.  How  soon  is  the  most  exquisite  earthly 
pleasure  passed  !  The  charms  of  the  sweetest  melody, 
how  soon  it  dies  away  on  the  ear  !  The  tenderest  ties  of 
friendship,  how  soon  are  they  severed  !  The  most  splen- 
did mansion,  how  soon  it  must  be  left !  The  widest  re- 
putation, how  soon  must  we  cease  to  enjoy  it !  And  so 
with  the  bitterest  grief,  the  keenest  sorrow,  the  most 
agonizing  pain,  how  soon  it  is  all  gone !  Whether  we 
are  rich  or  poor,  honored  or  dishonored,  life  is  like  a 
vapor  that  appears  for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanishes 
away.  Of  what  importance  can  it  be  to  the  vapor  that 
you  see  in  the  morning  as  it  lies  on  the  mountain  side, 
whether  it  be  admired  by  a  few  more,  or  a  few  less  mor- 
tals ;  or  whether  it  roll  a  little  higher,  or  sink  a  litde 
lower,  since  it  must  soon  vanish  in  the  beams  of  the  morn- 
ing sun  ?  So  of  the  vapor  of  life.  The  cloud  that  you 
see  lie  along  the  western  sky,  as  the  sun  sinks  behind 
the  hills,  so  gorgeous,  so  changing,  so  beautiful,  of  what 
importance  can  it  be  whether  a  few  more  or  a  few  less 
tints  be  painted  there ;  or  whether  a  few  more  or  a  few 
less  eyes  gaze  upon  it — for  the  darkness  of  midnight  will 
soon  conceal  it  all.  So  with  the  beauty  and  the  gorgeous- 
ness  of  life.     So  with  your  dress,  your  equipage,  your 


80  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

furniture,  your  dwellings.     The  night  of  death  cometh, 
and  will  shut  all  from  your  view. 

If  man  has  any  great  interests,  they  lie  beyond  the 
tomb.  If  he  has  none  there,  life  is  a  bubble,  a  vapor,  a 
gorgeous  illusion,  a  changing  cloud,  a  mist  on  the  moun- 
tain side.  And  if  this  be  so,  it  is  as  well  for  a  man  to 
make  up  his  mind  to  it,  and  to  eat  and  drmk,  for  to-mor- 
row he  dies.  Then  he  should  ascertain  this,  and  have 
no  trouble  about  the  future.  He  should  settle  the  ques- 
tion, and  make  as  much  of  luxury  and  pastime ;  of  the 
feast  and  the  dance  ;  of  the  theatre  and  the  ball-room ; 
of  riotous  indulgence  and  of  ambition,  as  possible.  He 
should  so  settle  it  as  to  have  no  trouble  from  his  con- 
science in  the  most  riotous  pleasures ;  no  fear  of  God  in 
the  scenes  of  sensual  indulgence  and  mirth ;  no  fear  of 
hell  while  he  revels  on  the  bounties  which  chance  may 
spread  around  him ;  no  superstitious  apprehensions  of  a 
judgment-seat  while  he  rolls  in  dissipation,  and  tramples 
on  the  rights  of  others.  For  if  there  is  no  eternity,  it  is 
utter  folly  to  act  with  reference  to  it ;  if  there  is  no  hell, 
it  is  folly  to  be  restrained  by  any  such  unfounded  appre- 
hension ;  if  there  is  no  God,  then  men  should  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  any  superstitious  belief  that  his  eye  is  upon 
them.  But  if  there  is  a  God,  a  heaven,  a  hell,  an  eter- 
nity, then  life  becomes  a  very  different  thing.  Then  man's 
great  interests  are  transferred  at  once  to  the  regions  be- 
yond the  grave.  Then  life,  now  so  busy  and  active,  be- 
comes so  trifling  that  it  may  be  said  that  all  his  interests 
are  there.  The  great  things  which  are  to  afiect  us  most 
deeply  do  not  cease,  but  just  commence,  when  we  lie 
down  on  a  bed  of  death.  There,  amidst  the  darkness  of 
the  dying  scene,  existence  is  just  begun ;  and  there  we 
are  just  entering  on  the  scenes  which  must  thrill  through 
the  soul,  and  absorb  all  its  powers  forever.  Then  the 
eyes  turned  away  from  the  gorgeousness  of  the  illusive 
scene  here — the  vain  pageant  of  this  world — are  opened 
upon  the  realities  of  the  judgment-bar ;  the  throne  of 
God;  and  the  splendors  of  the  unchanging  world.  Then 
the  ear  made  deaf  by  dying  to  the  charms  of  sweet  mu- 
sic, is  opened  to  the  sweet  strains  that  float  forever  over 
the  plains  of  heaven,  or  the  groans  and  sighs  of  the  world 
of  wo.     Then  the  soul,  insensible  longer  to  the  comforts 


INDECISION    IX    RELIGION.  81 

or  the  sorrows  of  this  hfe ;  no  longer  affected  by  the  plea- 
sures of  friendship,  or  the  evils  of  poverty,  want,  or  pain, 
is  made  alive  at  once  to  the  bliss  of  eternal  love  in  hea- 
ven, or  to  the  deep  sorrows  of  that  world  of  despair  that 
shall  endure  forever.  And  if  this  be  so,  then  whatever 
other  interests  you  may  neglect,  assuredly  this  should 
not  be  disregarded.  Whatever  else  may  be  undecided, 
this  should  be  settled.  If  a  choice  were  to  be  made,  as- 
suredly better  to  let  health  suffer  than  the  soul  die  ;  bet- 
ter to  be  a  bankrupt  than  be  damned ;  better  be  without 
reputation  here,  than  to  meet  the  ever-endiu-ing  wrath  of 
God  ;  better  suffer  your  name  to  be  blackened  and  calum- 
niated, than  to  sink  beneath  the  avenging  arm  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  better  let  men  kill  the  body,  than^o  fall  unprepared 
into  the  hands  of  that  God  who  can  destroy  both  soul 
and  body  in  hell. 

(2.)  A  second  consideration  is,  that  you  would  suffer 
no  other  matter  to  remain  undecided  as  this  does.  If  you 
are  sick,  you  leave  no  means  untried  to  secure  returnmg 
health.  If  you  were  in  as  much  danger  of  becoming  a 
bankrupt  as'you  are  of  losmg  the  soul,  you  would  give 
yourself  no  rest  mitil,  if  possible,  you  should  feel  your- 
self safe.  If  you  had  a  richly-freighted  ship  at  sea,  and 
there  was  as  much  danger  that  she  and  her  cargo  would 
be  lost  as  there  is  that  your  soul  will,  and  there  were  any 
doubt  about  the  insurance,  you  would  lose  no  time  in 
making  the  proper  investigation.  Your  business,  your 
property,  your  reputation,  you  would  not  leave  as  you 
do  the  concerns  of  the  soul ;  and  if  you  did,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  any  man  to  become  rich,  or  respected,  or 
honored  in  the  world.  There  is  no  other  interest  so  un- 
settled as  your  religious  interests:  there  are  no  other 
opinions  so  unfixed  ;  no  other  purposes  so  vascillating. 
You  leave  no  title-deeds,  no  investments,  no  stocks,  no 
bonds,  no  notes  in  the  same  unsettled  condition :  and 
there  is  not  a  single  department  of  your  business ;  a  sin- 
gle scheme  or  plan  of  life  that  is  not  more  carefully  looked 
at,  and  better  known  than  tlie  question  about  eternity. 
Were  there  this  day  half  the  danger  that  you  would 
come  to  poverty,  that  there  is  that  you  will  sink  down  to 
hell,  no  words  would  be  wanting  or  needed  to  induce  you 
to  examine  your  prospects,  and  contemplate  your  condi- 


82  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

tion.  Nay,  have  you  never  witnessed  this  fact  ?  Have 
you  not  seen  a  man  yesterday  in  affluence,  with  the  luxu- 
ries and  comforts  of  the  world  around  him ;  have  you 
not  seen  that  man,  when  a  blast  of  misfortune  has  come 
over  him,  pale,  and  agitated,  and  alarmed ;  have  you  not 
seen  how  sleep  has  forsaken  his  pillow,  and  how  he  has 
given  himself  no  rest  under  the  threatening  storm  ?  And 
then  have  you  not  seen  on  the  subject  of  religion,  when 
the  great  interests  of  the  soul  are  urged,  and  his  danger 
set  forth,  how  unconcerned,  how  listless,  how  regardless 
of  all  the  proofs  of  danger ;  how  unmoved  by  even  the 
conviction  that  there  all  was  unsettled,  and  in  danger ! 

(3.)  A  third  consideration  is,  that  it  is  possible  to  come 
to  a  decision  on  this  subject ;  and  if  possible,  an  affair  of 
so  much  importance  should  not  remain  undecided.  It  is 
possible  for  a  man  to  find  out  whether  there  is  any  reli- 
gion ;  whether  the  Christian  religion  is  true  or  false ; 
whether  the  true  religion  is  preferable  to  false  religion ; 
whether  Christianity  is  preferable  to  infidelity ;  whether 
there  is  a  God,  a  Saviour,  a  heaven,  and  a  hell.  It  is 
possible  for  a  man  to  know  whether  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  the  new  birth,  and  the  pardon  of  sin ;  and  whether  there 
is,  or  is  not,  any  such  thing  as  joy  and  peace  in  believing 
the  gospel.  I  say  it  is  possible,  for  the  following  among 
other  reasons :  (1.)  Because  it  is  as  easy  for  a  man  to 
understand  his  own  character  on  the  subject  of  religion 
as  it  is  on  other  subjects.  In  the  nature  of  the  case  there 
is  no  more  reason  why  a  man  should  not  know  whether 
he  loves  God,  than  there  is  whether  he  loves  an  earthly 
father  or  friend.  (2.)  Because  thousands  and  millions, 
with  no  better  advantages  than  you  have,  have  been  en- 
abled to  settle  the  question,  and  to  arrive  at  decided 
views.  They  have  so  settled  it  that  they  have  been  en- 
abled to  look  to  the  grave  with  peace,  and  to  heaven 
with  triumph ;  so  settled  it  that  doubt  has  fled,  and  left 
their  minds  tranquil  and  serene.  (3.)  Because  it  is  not 
reasonable  to  believe  that  God  would  leave  this  matter  to 
uncertainty,  or  put  it  beyond  our  power  to  arrive  at  some 
settled  views  on  the  subject  of  religion.  No  man  should 
charge  it  on  him  unless  he  has  positive  demonstration 
that  he  has  put  it  utterly  beyond  his  power  to  arrive  at 
any  determined  views  about  his  own  character,  his  Crea- 


INDECISION    IN    RELIGION.  83 

tor,  and  the  world  to  come.  (4.)  Because  he  has  given 
us  reason  for  this  very  purpose,  and  endowed  us  with 
faculties  for  investigating  the  whole  subject,  and  if  a  man 
will  not  employ  his  reason,  he  must  answer  it  to  God. 
(5.)  Because  he  has  given  us  the  Bible  for  this  very  end  ; 
and  has,  in  the  Bible,  given  us  all  the  information  which 
is  needful  in  regard  to  his  own  character  and  ours ;  to  the 
plan  of  salvation ;  to  death  and  hell.  No  man  can  pre- 
tend that  there  is  not  in  the  Bible  knowledge  enough,  if 
it  is  true,  about  God  and  the  future  state ; — and  whether 
It  is  true  or  not,  a  man  may,  if  he  chooses,  be  able  to 
understand.  And  (6.)  Because  in  the  Bible  he  expressly 
calls  on  us  to  decide ;  to  take  a  stand  ;  to  be  settled  in 
our  views.  Thus  in  the  text,  "  If  Jehovah  be  God,  then 
follow  him  ;  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him."  Thus  Moses, 
"  I  call  heaven  and  earth  to  record  this  day  against  you, 
that  I  have  set  before  you  life  and  death,  blessing  and 
cursing  ;  therefore  choose  life.''  And  every  where  in 
the  Bible,  God  calls  on  men  to  be  decided,  and  firm,  and 
settled  in  their  views  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

Now  I  know  it  is  possible  for  men  to  be  vacillating 
and  unsettled  on  the  subject  of  religion.  But  if  they  are, 
it  is  not  the  fault  of  God.  If  they  have  no  settled  views, 
it  must  be  traced  to  something  else  than  to  a  want  of 
means  to  obtain  them.  There  is  a  ship,  suppose,  in  a 
dark  night  at  sea.  There  are  rocks  and  quicksands  near. 
There  are  currents  that  are  setting  towards  the  shore,  and 
the  wind  is  rising,  and  every  thing  indicates  a  tempest. 
There  is  a  chart  and  a  compass  near  the  helmsman.  But 
he  is  unsettled  in  his  views  and  his  aims.  He  will  neither 
look  at  his  compass  nor  his  chart,  but  he  begins  to  be 
distressed,  and  he  turns  his  helm  this  way  and  that  way, 
and  he  guides  his  ship  by  caprice,  and  she  moves  in  a 
zig-zag  course,  and  his  hope  is  chance,  and  a  few  more 
moments  in  this  way  will  dash  the  ill-fated  vessel  on  a 
rock.  Meantime  many  a  mariner  has  gone  calmly 
through  those  seas,  and  stood  out  with  a  bold  front  and 
swelling  canvass  to  the  ocean,  and  seen  the  tempest  rise 
without  alarm,  and  been  unmoved  when  cloud  has  been 
piled  on  cloud,  and  the  ocean  been  lashed  into  foam,  and 
the  lightnings  have  pla3^ed,  and  the  thunder  has  rolled 
along  the  deep.     Human  life  is  a  voyage  ;  and  men  act 


84  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

in  reference  to  that,  not  as  the  skilful  mariner  does  on  the 
deep,  but  as  no  mariner  ever  did,  or  ever  will.  They 
have  the  chart  and  the  compass  in  their  own  dwellings, 
but  they  will  not  look  at  them ;  and  they  are  unsettled  in 
their  views,  and  when  the  storm  arises,  and  danger 
deepens,  they  are  alarmed,  and  when  they  die  their 
hopes  become  a  wreck. 

(4.)  The  fourth  consideration  is,  that  the  things  about 
which  a  man  is  to  decide  are  few  in  number,  and  may 
easily  be  determined.  In  our  text,  it  was  a  simple  choice 
which  was  to  be  made.  There  were  but  two  objects  be- 
fore the  mind,  and  the  call  was  to  determine  which  of 
them  was  to  be  acknowledged  as  God.  So  it  is  still. 
Were  the  question  what  selection  a  man  would  make 
among  the  rabble  of  Pagan  gods,  it  would  be  more  diffi- 
cult to  determine.  But  the  questions  which  you  are  to 
settle  are  all  of  them  very  simple,  and  may  be  stated  in 
few  words.  They  are,  whether  you  will  worship  Jeho- 
vah or  Mammon — for  both  cannot  be  served.  Whether 
you  will  depend  on  Jesus  Christ  for  salvation,  or  not — 
for  you  cannot  depend  on  him  and  your  own  morality. 
Whether  you  will  forsake  your  sins  or  not — for  you  can- 
not be  saved  while  you  adhere  to  them.  Whether  you 
will  live  to  God,  or  to  yourselves — for  you  cannot  do 
both.  Whether  you  will  give  your  heart  to  the  Redeemer 
or  not — for  3^ou  cannot  be  saved  until  this  is  done.  Whe- 
ther you  will  renounce  the  works  of  the  flesh  and  the 
devil,  and  come  out  from  the  world,  and  abandon  its 
vices  and  its  gaieties  or  not — for  both  cannot  be  followed. 
Now,  these  questions  are  very  simple.  The  choice  here 
lies  in  a  very  narrow  compass.  The  main  points  require 
little  investigation,  and  the  mind  may  he  settled  at  once. 
Why  should  a  man  hesitate  on  any  one  of  them  ? 
Why  suppose  that  there  was  any  thing  peculiarly  mys- 
terious or  difficult  in  regard  to  these  enquiries  ?  What 
is  the  necessity  for  delaying  it  from  day  to  day,  and  even 
from  year  to  year  ?  These  are  the  questions  which  in  fact 
are  before  the  mind.  And  these  are  the  points,  and  no 
other,  on  which  the  mind  hesitates,  and  is  in  doubt.  The 
perplexity  is  here  in  these  practical  matters,  and  not  in 
any  imaginary  metaphysical  difficulty  or  abstruseness  in 


INDECISION    IN    RELIGION.  85 

the  questions  which  are  involved.  And  this  leads  me  to 
state,  as  a 

(5.)  Fifth  consideration,  that  this  state  of  mind  must  be 
one  that  is  infinitely  displeasing  to  God.  What  are  the 
feelings  of  a  father,  if  he  learns  that  a  child  is  seriously 
pondering  the  question  whether  he  shall  or  shall  not  love 
and  obey  him ;  whether  he  shall  or  shall  not  prefer  his 
father's  good  name  to  his  disgrace,  his  father's  society  to 
the  society  of  the  unprincipled  and  the  vile,  his  father's 
dwelling  to  the  gambling  room,  and  to  the  tavern,  and 
the  house  of  infamy  ?  What  would  be  his  feelings  should 
he  learn  that  that  son  has  been  debating  these  questions 
in  his  own  mind  for  weeks  or  years ;  that  he  is  able  to 
come  to  no  settled  decision  on  the  subject ;  that  he  be- 
comes more  and  more  perplexed  about  it ;  and  that  in 
the  mean  time  he  is  i?i  fact  spending  his  nights  with  the 
infamous,  and  is  rioting  on  his  father's  beneficence,  and 
abusing  his  credulity  and  good  nature  ?  Now,  in  like 
manner,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  a  state  of  mind 
more  wicked  than  a  serious  and  protracted  examination 
of  the  question  when  it  is  fairly  brought  before  a  man, 
whether  he  shall  love  God  or  hate  him ;  whether  he  shall 
continue  to  reject  the  Saviour  and  crucify  him  afresh,  or 
embrace  him ;  whether  he  shall  serve  his  Creator  and 
keep  his  laws,  or  whether  he  shall  defile  himself  with 
every  form  of  abominable  pollution  and  sin.  PFhi/  should 
a  man  agitate  such  a  question  at  all?  And  if  it  occurs 
to  him,  why  not  take  some  measures  to  settle  it,  and  come 
10  some  fixed  views  in  regard  to  it  ?  Better  a  thousand 
times  that  it  be  settled  any  way  than  to  be  a  question 
which  a  man  is  agitating  from  week  to  week,  and  from 
year  to  year. 

(6.)  A  sixth  consideration  is,  that  you  will  never  be  in 
circumstances  more  favorable  for  a  decision  than  the  pre- 
sent. If  there  were  any  prospect  that  God  would  send 
a  new  revelation  more  complete  than  the  present,  or  if 
his  word  did  not  contain  all  the  light  which  we  have  rea- 
son to  expect,  or  which  we  needed,  the  case  would  be 
different.  But  of  any  such  new  revelation  there  is  no 
prospect ;  and  there  is  as  little  necessity  as  there  is  a  pros- 
pect of  it.  You  have  all  that  can  ever  shed  light  on  your 
path ;  all  that  will  ever  be  given  you  to  aid  you  in  coming 

8 


86  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

to  a  decision.  The  word  of  life  is  in  your  dwellings  and 
in  your  hands ;  the  lamp  of  salvation  shines  on  your 
way.  There  will  be  no  new  prophet  sent  into  the  world ; 
there  will  be  no  new  miracle ;  no  voice  will  be  uttered 
from  heaven  to  remove  yom:  perplexity ;  and  the  dead 
will  not  be  raised  to  resolve  your  doubts.  You  have 
Moses,  and  the  prophets,  and  the  apostles,  and  the  Re- 
deemer ;  and  we)^e  the  dead  to  rise,  if  you  will  not  hear 
the  risen  Son  of  God,  you  would  not  be  persuaded  though 
a  man  should  come  now  from  the  tomb. 

What  prospect  is  there  that  there  will  be  any  increased 
facility  for  coming  to  a  decision  on  the  subject  ?  That 
aged  man,  venerable  already  by  years,  whose  mind  is 
now  undecided — what  increased  advantages  will  he  ever 
have  for  coming  to  a  decision  ?  Will  his  mind  ever  be 
clearer,  his  reason  more  powerful,  his  conscience  more 
quick,  his  perception  of  the  truth  more  vivid  ?  Does  he 
not  see  that  the  powers  of  nature  are  decaying,  and  that 
memory  will  soon  fail,  and  his  mind  become  weakened 
and  bewildered?  And  does  he  not  see  that  his  sands  are 
few  in  number,  and  that  very  soon  he  must  be  removed 
to  a  world  where  this  cannot  be  a  subject  of  deliberation  ? 
That  man  in  middle  life — -will  he  ever  be  in  circum- 
stances more  favorable  for  a  decision  ?  His  powers  are 
mature  and  active  ;  he  cannot  plead  that  he  is  urged  on 
by  the  passions  of  youth  ;  and  he  labors  not  yet  under 
the  apathy,  the  imbecilities,  and  the  infirmities  of  age. 
He  can  look  reasonably  for  no  greater  strength  of  mind  ; 
no  greater  tenderness  of  conscience  ;  no  more  solemn 
appeals  than  God  is  now  making  to  him.  Tliink  you, 
that  amidst  the  infirmities  of  advanced  years,  it  will  be  a 
more  favorable  time  to  come  to  a  decision  on  the  subject 
than  the  present  ?  And  how  know  you  that  you  will  live 
to  advanced  years  ?  And  who  has  given  you  a  right  to 
serve  Mammon  now,  with  the  purpose  to  serve  God 
hereafter  ;  to  devote  your  best  powers  to  the  service  of 
sin  and  the  world,  with  the  design  to  give  to  God  the 
miserable  remnant  of  your  days,  in  an  enfeebled,  and  dis- 
contented, and  peevish  old  age,  when  you  can  do  no 
honor  to  religion,  and  no  service  to  the  world  ?  Can  it  be 
unknown  to  you,  that  as  the  effect  of  just  such  a  purpose 
as  this,  many  a  man  grieves  away  the  Spirit  of  God ;  is 


INDECISION    IN    RELIGION.  87 

given  up  to  the  sordid  love  of  gain ;  becomes  callous  to 
the  appeals  of  the  gospel  ;  becomes  a  comfortless  and  a 
peevish  old  man  ;  lives  without  usefulness,  and  dies  with- 
out hope  ?  And  that  interesting  young  man,  or  young 
female — can  they  have  a  more  favorable  time  to  decide 
this  question  than  now — to-day  ?  Will  there  be  a  time 
when  the  mind  will  be  more  tender,  more  susceptible  of 
serious  impressions,  more  awake  to  the  importance  of 
the  subject  ?  Will  there  be  a  time  when  they  will  be 
more  free  from  care,  and  anxiety,  and  concern  about  this 
world  ?  Can  there  be  a  period  when  it  will  be  more 
proper  to  determine  and  settle  definitely  the  course  that 
shall  be  pursued  through  life  ?  When  a  new  and  gallant 
ship,  with  her  sails  all  set,  and  her  masts  all  firm,  and  her 
movement  beautiful  upon  the  waters,  becomes  ready 
for  a  distant  voyage  on  a  sea  full  of  rocks  and  mighty 
currents,  when  is  the  proper  time  to  determine  what 
course  shall  be  steered  ?  When  she  has  committed  her- 
self to  the  mercy  of  winds  and  waves  to  try  her  strength 
in  buffeting  them,  and  has  been  tossed  on  unknown  seas, 
or  when  she  leaves  the  port  ?  Shall  her  master  steer  for 
some  distant  port,  and  lay  down  her  course,  and  pursue 
it  amidst  all  the  storms  that  may  howl,  or  shall  the  vessel 
start  forth  in  her  pride,  and  dance  from  wave  to  wave, 
until  she  strikes  suddenly  upon  a  rock  ?  And  when,  my 
young  friend,  is  the  best  time  for  you  to  be  decided  on 
the  subject  of  religion  ?  When  you  start  on  the  voyage 
of  life.  Before  the  tempests  shall  beat,  and  the  winds 
howl.  Before  you  drift  into  unknown  seas.  Before  you 
dash  upon  the  rock.  Now  is  the  time  to  settle  this  great 
question.  To-day  is  the  proper  period  to  determine  whe- 
ther you  will  be  for  God  or  for  the  world  ;  a  Christian  or 
an  infidel ;  a  candidate  early  ripe  for  heaven,  or  a  candi- 
date early  ripe  for  hell. 

(7.)  I  add  but  one  other  consideration.  The  present 
is  the  only  time  vv^hich  you  may  have  to  decide  this  point. 
To-morrow  may  find  you  in  another  world.  To-morrow 
God  may  have  decided  the  question  forever.  This  long 
delay,  this  hesitancy,  this  indecision  may  provoke  his 
wrath  ;  and  in  judgment  he  may  come  forth  and  cut  you 
down  as  a  curnberer  of  the  ground.  You  cannot  remain 
always  as  you  are.     There  must  be  a  decision ;  and  if 


88  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

that  decision  is  not  made  by  a  voluntary  preference  for 
God,  it  will  be  made  by  a  removal  to  a  world  where  it 
will  not  be  a  subject  of  deliberation.     Death  will  close 
this  vacillating  scene.     Death  will  clear  up  the  doubts 
from  the  mind.     Death  will  fix  that  which  is  unfixed  ; 
determijie  that  which  is  undetermined ;  and  render  change- 
less that  which  is  now  fhictuating  as  the  waves  of  the  sea. 
In  view,  now,  of  all  these  considerations,  I  call  on  you 
this  day  to  take  your  stand ;  to  make  up  your  mind  to 
one  course  or  another;  to  resolve  to  serve  God  or  to  be 
his  avowed  and  settled  foe  ;  to  be  a  Christian,  or  to  cast 
in  your  name  and  intiuence  with  sin,  and  against  Jesus 
Christ ;  to  subscribe  with  your  own  hand  to  this  fixed 
purpose  of  life,  whatevoi'  it  may  be  ;  and  to  cast  the  die 
for  time  and  eternity.    I  call  on  you  to  make  a  choice.    I 
appeal  to  you  to  settle  this  question.     I  apprize  you  that 
it  will  be  easier  to  settle  it  now  than  it  will  be  on  a 
dying  bed.     I  ask  tliat  it  may  be  settled  on  those  seats ; 
and  in  the  name   of  my  God  and   yours,  I  solemnly 
warn  every  one  against  leaving  this  liouse  to-day  Avith- 
out  having  made  up  his  mind  definitively  on  this  subject. 
If  Jehovah  be  God,  then  follow  him;  if  Baal,  then  fol- 
low him;    if   Mammon,  then  follow  him;  if  Bacchus, 
then  follow  him.    If  Jesus  Christ  be  the  Redeemer  of  the 
world,  then  embrace  him.     But  if  there  be  no  Saviour, 
then  settle  the  point  that  you  have  no  Saviour,  and  that, 
in  your  view,  the  world  is  without  a  Redeemer.     If  the 
Bible  be  a  revelation  from   heaven,  then  embrace  its 
offers,  and  cling  to  its  promises.    But  if  there  be  no  reve- 
lation, then  yield  yourself  to  the  miserable  darkness  of 
your  own  reason,  and  give  no  credit  to  the  Bible  as  hav- 
ing any  claims  to  your  belief  or  homage.     If  there  be  a 
heaven,  resolve  liere,  and  now,  and  in  the  presence  of 
God,  that  you  will  seek  it  as  the  grand  purpose  of  the 
soul ;  if  there  be  a  hell,  resolve  here,  and  now,  and  be- 
fore God,  that  you  will  never  mingle  in  its  groans,  and 
gnash  your  teeth  with  its  pain  ; — if  there  be  neither,  then 
go — go,  miserable  creature  of  a  day — go,  vapor  of  morn- 
ing dew — go,  wretched  dweller  in  a  world  of  sin  and 
pain ;  go,  thou  who  hast  no  prospect  of  life  everlasting ; 
who  hast  no  hope  of  existence  beyond  the  grave ;  who 
hast  no  God  and  no  Saviour — go,  "eat  and  drink,  for 
to-morrow  you  die  ."' 


SERMON  VI. 

THE    REASONS    WHY    MEN    ARE    NOT    CHRISTIANS. 
Luke  xiv.  1 8.     I  pray  thee  have  me  excused. 

It  is  worth  every  man's  while  to  ascertain  the  exact 
reason  why  he  is  not  a  Christian.  It  is  to  be  presumed 
that  he  who  is  not  a  Christian  has  some  reason  for 
remaining  in  his  present  state,  or  that  there  is  some 
cause  why  he  does  not  embrace  the  offers  of  the  gospel 
which  are  pressed  so  constantly  on  his  attention.  If  he 
has  any  good  reason — any  such  as  exempts  him  from  the 
obligation  resting  on  other  men  to  give  their  hearts  to 
God,  it  Vv^ould  be  well  for  him  distinctly  to  understand  it. 
It  would  be  well  also  to  enquire  whether  that  on  which 
he  is  relying  is  in  fact  a  substantial  reason,  and  is  such 
as  will  abide  the  investigations  of  the  last  day.  If  a  man 
has  a  good  reason  for  not  being  a  Christian,  it  is  such  as 
will  meet  with  the  approbation  of  God,  and  will  admit 
him  to  heaven  without  reliance  on  the  merits  of  the  Sa- 
viour— for  what  is  a  sufficient  reason  now,  will  be  a 
sufficient  reason  then  ;  what  will  be  valueless  then,  is 
worthless  now. 

It  is  a  part  of  my  duty  to  search  out  the  causes  why 
men  are  not  Christians,  and  to  endeavor  to  remove  them. 
Doing  the  best  that  I  can  to  learn  those  causes,  I  am  to 
come  and  do  the  best  that  I  can  to  remove  them  ;  and 
where  I  am  convinced  that  those  reasons  are  not  solid,  to 
attempt  to  show  men  why  they  are  not  so.  Such  an  at- 
tempt requires  candor  on  your  part ;  kindness  and  fidelity 
on  mine.  I  propose,  therefore,  at  this  time,  to  submit  to 
you  the  result  of  my  reflections  and  observation  on  this 
subject ;  and  my  remarks  will  be  confined  to  two  points 
— the  causes  or  reasons  why  men  are  not  Christians ;  and 
the  enquiry  whether  those  causes  are  satisfactory. 

1.  Our  first  point  relates  to  the  causes  or  reasons  why 
men  are  not  Christians  ;  or  in  other  words,  Avhy  they  wish 
to  be  excused  from  being  Christians — which  is  the  form 
in  which  it  is  presented  in  the  text. 


90  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

There  is  something  remarkable  in  the  aspect  which  the 
subject  assumes  on  the  first  view  of  it.     Men  ask  to  be 
excused,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  favor.     It  is  natural  to 
ask,/rom  what?    From  a  rich  banquet,  says  the  parable 
from  which  my  text  is  taken.     From  the  hope  of  heaven 
through  Jesus  Christ.   From  loving  God,  and  keeping  his 
commandments.     From  having  the   peace  of  mind  of 
which  all  who  are  Christians  partake ;  from  the  support 
in  trial  which  religion  indubitably  furnishes  to  those  that 
love  it ;  from  the  consolation  on  a  bed  of  death  which  re- 
ligion gives,  and  frorn  the  prospect  of  immortal  glory  be- 
yond.    From  that  which  is  fitted  to  make  a  man  more 
useful,  respected,  and  beloved  in  life  ;  remembered  with 
deeper  affection  when  he  is  dead  ;  honored  forever  in  hea- 
ven.    From  that  which  will  take  from  him  no  property  ; 
inflict  no  pain  ;  create  no  remorse  ;  cause   no  anguish  ; 
and  never  produce  a  sigh.     From  that  which  would  be 
mvaluable  to  him  in  the  various  circumstances  of  trial  to 
which  he  is  subjected  in  common  with  other  men  in  this 
life,  and  which  perhaps  he  will  admit  is  indispensable  to 
his  immortal  happiness  beyond   the  grave.     If  it  were 
from  poverty  and  disgrace ;  from  anguish  of  spirit  and 
remorse  ;  from  the  loss  of  the  favor  of  friends,  and  of 
the  world,  we  could  easily  understand  why  he  would 
wish  to  be  excused.     But  when  we  search  for  the  rea- 
sons why  a  man  wishes  to  be  excused  from  that  which 
will  promote  his  own  best  interest  in  this  world,  and  for- 
ever; from  that  which  he  needs,  and  knows  he  needs, 
and  which  all  his  nature  pants  and  sighs  for ;  from  that 
which  gives  the  brightest  ornament  of  character  when 
living,  and  the  sweetest  consolation  to  his  friends  when 
dead,  it  is  necessary  that  we  look  deeper  that  we  may 
know  the  true  reason.     It  is  an  anomaly  in  the  character 
of  man. 

In  searching  for  the  causes  or  reasons  why  men  wish 
to  be  excused  from  becoming  Christians,  I  may  be  allow- 
ed to  suggest  that  they  are  often  under  a  strong  tempta- 
tion to  conceal  those  which  are  real,  and  to  suggest  others 
which  will  better  answer  their  immediate  purpose.  My 
idea  is,  that  the  real  cause  in  not  always  avowed,  and 
that  men  are  strongly  tempted  to  suggest  others.     The 


THE   REASONS  WHY   MEN  ARE   NOT   CHRISTIANS.  01 

actual  reason  may  be  such  as,  on  many  accounts,  a  man 
would  have  strong  reluctance  to  have  known.  It  may 
be  such  as  would  make  it  easy  to  ansvv^er  it  ;  or  such  as 
would  be  likely  to  be  a  very  mortifying  avowal,  and 
which  would  be  rather  a  publication  of  guilt  than  a  rea- 
son for  not  being  a  Christian ;  and  there  is,  therefore,  a 
strong  temptation  for  a  man,  when  hard  pressed  with  the 
claims  of  duty,  to  resort  to  statements  which  will  make 
it  more  difficult  to  reply.  A  man  that  is  proud,  or  sen- 
sual, or  ambitious,  or  profane,  or  who  has  embarked  in 
some  yet  unexecuted  plan  of  iniquity,  would  be  slow  to 
avow  these  as  reasons  why  he  does  not  become  a  Chris- 
tian— though  these  may  be  in  fact  the  real  causes.  He 
would  be  under  a  strong  temptation  to  suggest,  and  would 
be  likely  to  suggest,  some  such  reasons  as  the  following. 
That  he  has  no  ability  to  repent  and  believe  the  gospel. 
That  the  heart  is  changed  by  the  power  of  God,  and  that 
it  is  a  work  entirely  beyond  his  control.  That  God  has 
determined,  by  an  unalterable  decree,  the  number  of  those 
who  will  be  saved,  and  that  any  efforts  of  his  cannot 
change  the  fixed  purpose  of  God.  That  if  he  is  to  be 
saved  he  will  be,  and  that  at  all  events  he  is  so  depen- 
dent and  so  helpless,  he  must  wait  until  God  shall  in- 
terpose and  renew  his  heart.  These  objections,  though 
not  the  real  ones,  are  embarrassing,  and  difficult  to  be 
answered.  They  involve  perplexing  questions,  and  those 
which  we  admit  we  cannot  always  instantly  solve.  And 
since  this  is  so,  there  is  a  strong  temptation  to  suggest 
them,  even  where  they  are  not  the  real  causes,  and  it  is 
not  uncharitable  to  suppose  that  they  may  be  sometimes 
urged  when  the  real  causes  would  be  wholly  different. 

Supposing  myself  that  these  are  not  the  actual  reasons 
at  work  to  prevent  men  from  becoming  Christians,  I  shall 
now  proceed  to  state  what  I  suppose  are  ;  and  shall  sub- 
mit what  I  have  to  say  to  your  candid  attention. 

The  grand  reason  why  men  are  not  Christians,  as  I 
understand  it,  is  the  opposition  of  the  heart  to  religion  ; 
that  mysterious  opposition  that  can  be  traced  back  through 
all  hearts,  and  all  generations,  up  to  the  great  apostacy — 
the  fall  of  Adam.  All  who  have  become  Christians  have 
felt  the  power  of  this  native  opposition  to  holiness,  and 
have  been  wilhng  to  confess,  that  m  their  case,  this  was 


PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 


the  reason  why  they  did  not  sooner  yield  to  God.  It 
would  bs  easy,  I  think,  to  prove  that  the  same  thing  ex- 
ists in  all  other  hearts,  and  that  it  is  not  possible  to  ac- 
count for  the  universal  rejection  of  the  gospel  on  any 
other  supposition.  The  reason  and  the  conscience  of 
men  are  on  the  side  of  religion.  There  is  no  want  of 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity  ;  and  such  want  of 
evidence  is  not  alleged  by  many  as  a  reason  why  they 
are  not  Christians.  All  those  who  are  disposed  to  find 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  religion,  find  enough  to  be  en- 
tirely satisfactory  to  their  own  minds,  and  are  willing  to 
risk  the  welfare  of  their  souls  on  its  truth.  No  man 
who  Avas  disposed  to  serve  God,  ever  went  back  and  re- 
jected Christianity  because  there  was  a  lack  of  evidence 
such  as  the  mind  wants  in  such  a  case.  If  this  be  so, 
then  there  is  in  the  human  heart  something  lying  back  of 
all  this  that  is  the  reason  why  men  are  not  Christians  ; 
and  that,  I  need  not  pause  to  prove,  is  the  unwillingness 
of  the  heart  to  yield,  or  the  opposition  of  the  soul  by 
nature  to  God. 

But  though  this  is  the  original  difficulty,  and  is  the 
actual  cause  why  men  cannot  be  persuaded  to  be  Chris- 
tians, yet  it  assumes  a  great  variety  of  forms,  and  ap- 
pears in  a  great  variety  of  aspects.  It  goes  forth  like 
streams  that  issue  from  a  fountain,  and  like  one  of  those 
streams  we  often  see  it  only  at  a  great  distance  from  the 
source.  It  appears  sometimes  in  a  form  that  scarcely 
seems  to  savor  of  opposition,  and  under  an  aspect  so 
mild,  so  sweet,  so  winning,  that  you  can  scarcely  believe 
that  all  this  is  connected  with  opposition  of  heart  to  all 
that  is  good.  Let  us  now  leave  this  general  cause,  and 
ask  what  are  the  actual  reasons  why  men  are  not  Chris- 
tians. They  are,  as  I  understand  them,  such  as  the  fol- 
lowing. 

(1.)  A  feeling  that  you  do  not  7ieed  salvation  in  the 
way  proposed  in  the  gospel ;  that  you  do  not  need  to  be 
born  again,  or  pardoned  through  the  merits  of  the  Re- 
deemer. The  feeling  is,  that  your  heart  is  by  nature 
rather  inclined  to  virtue  than  to  vice,  to  good  than  to 
evil ;  that  the  errors  of  your  life  have  been  compara- 
tively few,  your  virtues  many  ;  that  the  follies  which  are 
justly  to  be  charged  on  you,  pertain  to  less  important 


THE   REASONS   WHY  MEX  ARE   NOT  CHRISTIANS.  93 

points,  and  do  not  affect  the  integrity  of  your  character ; 
that  they  were  such  as  were  to  be  expected  of  those  of 
your  age,  and  of  your  time  of  hfe,  and  such  as  are  easily 
pardonable.  Your  intentions,  you  would  say,  have  been 
good.  You  have  been  honest  and  honorable  in  business. 
You  have  been  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of 
a  professional  or  an  official  station.  As  a  merchant,  a 
lawyer,  a  director  of  a  bank  or  an  insurance  company ; 
as  a  magistrate,  or  as  a  representative  in  any  conmiercial 
or  civil  interest,  you  are  conscious  of  having  acted  with 
good  intentions,  and  your  character  is  above  suspicion. 
You  have  the  deserved  reputation  of  an  honest  man  ;  and 
to  that  you  may  have  superadded  more  than  mere  honesty 
— you  are  a  large  hearted  and  a  liberal  man.  With  the 
doctrine  of  total  depravity,  therefore,  on  which  we  feel 
it  our  duty  so  much  to  insist,  you  have  no  S3mipathy — 
and  you  do  not,  therefore,  feel  your  need  of  an  interest 
in  that  religion  of  which  the  doctrine  of  the  fall  and  ruin 
of  man  is  the  very  ground-work. 

(2.)  You  suppose  that  in  your  case  there  is  no  danger 
of  being  lost — or  not  such  danger  as  to  make  it  a  subject 
of  serious  alarm.  This  feeling  grows  out  of  the  former, 
and  is  a  direct  consequence  of  it.  The  idea  is  this,  that 
if  the  duties  of  this  life  be  discharged  with  faithfulness, 
there  can  be  no  serious  ground  of  apprehension  in  regard 
to  the  world  to  come.  You  do  not  regard  it  as  credible 
that  a  moral  and  upright  man  can  be  seriously  in  danger 
of  eternal  punishment ;  and  you  expect  that  the  compa- 
ratively trivial  errors  and  follies  oi  your  life  will  be  easily 
overlooked,  and  that  the  future  may  be  not  unsafely  left 
without  anxiety.  This  would  not,  you  feel,  be  a  popu- 
lar doctrine.  All  sincere  Christians,  and  among  them 
some  of  your  best  friends,  would  differ  from  you  in  this 
view.  You  do  not  covet  the  name  of  an  Uiiiv^ersalist ; 
you  would  rather  avoid  it.  You  do  not  covet  contro- 
versy ;  you  would  rather  avoid  it.  You  do  not  wish  to 
pain  the  hearts  of  your  friends  by  their  being  made  to 
understand  exactly  your  views  on  the  subject ;  you  would 
rather  avoid  that.  Your  sentiments,  therefore,  are  locked 
up  in  your  own  bosom,  and  you  do  not  choose  io  disclose 
what  is  passing  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  soul  about 


94  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  final  doom  of  man.  But  while  these  feelings  arc 
cherished,  it  is  evident  that  you  will  make  no  effort  to 
secure  your  salvation  grounded  on  an  apprehension  of 
danger,  and  we  plead  in  vain  that  you  would  give  your 
mind  attentively  to  the  subject  of  religion. 

(3.)  A  third  cause  operating  on  a  large  class  is  this.  It 
is  a  secret  scepticism  about  the  truth  of  Christiaiiity. 
The  mind  is  not  settled.  The  belief  is  not  firm  that  it  is 
a  revelation  from  heaven.  There  is  a  secret  doubt  as  to 
the  truth  of  the  whole  system,  or  there  is  a  special  doubt 
in  regard  to  some  of  its  cardinal  and  leading  doctrines. 
The  mind  has  been  poisoned  by  some  book  long  since 
read  ;  or  some  conversation  long  since  had  with  an  infi- 
del ;  or  by  some  train  of  reflections  which  has  been 
allowed  to  work  a  channel  through  the  soul  in  its  own 
way  ;  or  by  some  lodgement  of  a  doubt  there  which  you 
have  never  found  time  to  remove  ;  and  while  these  doubts 
exist,  of  course  you  will  not  be  a  Christian.  Yet  these 
you  would  not  avow — except  in  a  circle  quite  select  and 
confidential.  They  would  be  more  likely  to  be  disclosed 
in  the  literary  and  scientific  circles  than  at  your  own  fire- 
side. They  will  be  more  likely  to  be  spoken  of  to  your 
male  companion  and  friend,  than  in  the  presence  of  your 
sister,  or  wife,  or  mother.  But  you  do  not  intend  to  avow 
them.  They  would  be  unpopular.  The  current  now  is 
setting  strongly  in  favor  of  Christianity ;  and  no  hterary 
or  scientific  man  in  this  country  wishes  to  risk  his  repu- 
tation by  publicly  avowing  any  doubts  about  the  truth 
of  the  Bible.  There  is  no  such  avowal.  None  such 
would  be  tolerated.  Yet  if  I  have  any  just  knowledge 
of  man,  and  of  the  operations  of  his  heart,  there  are  not 
a  few  who  are  deterred  from  being  Christians  by  some 
sceptical  feeling  on  some  of  the  points  of  religion. 

(4.)  A  fourth  class  are  deterred  by  a  feeling  that  the 
divine  government  is  unreasonable  and  severe.  In  one 
of  his  parables,  the  Saviour  has  taught  us  expressly  that 
this  operated  in  preventing  a  man  from  doing  his  duty, 
and  being  prepared  for  his  coming.  "  I  know  thee,'^  said 
the  man  who  had  received  the  one  talent,  "  I  know  thee, 
that  thou  art  an  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hast  not 
sown,  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not  strewed ;  and 


THE   REASONS  WHY  MEN  ARE   NOT   CHRISTIANS.  95 

I  was  afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth.'' 
Matt.  XXV.  24,  25.  Often  it  is  so  with  a  man  now.  We 
ask  him  to  give  up  his  op4)oshion,  and  to  fix  on  God 
higher  affections  than  he  does  on  any  and  all  other  be- 
ings. We  ask  him  to  repose  such  confidence  in  him  as 
to  be  willing  to  give  up  all  into  his  hands,  and  to  surren- 
der all  to  his  disposal.  When  we  do  this,  he  at  once  in 
his  own  mind  recurs  to  some  view  which  he  has  of  God, 
rendering  him  unworthy  of  that  confidence  which  we 
entreat  him  to  repose  in  him.  He  thinks  of  his  law  as 
rigid  and  severe;  of  his  government  as  unnecessarily 
strict  in  marking  offences ;  of  the  arrangement  by  which 
he  suffered  sin  and  the  overflowing  deluge  of  woes  that 
have  come  in  by  the  fall  and  fault  of  one  man  ;  of  the 
severity  of  the  sentence  by  which  he  dooms  the  impeni- 
tent to  an  eternal  hell ; — and  he  has  so  long  accustomed 
his  mind  to  such  dark  views  of  the  divine  character,  that 
he  sees  no  beauty  in  it ;  feels  that  if  he  were  to  surren- 
der, it  would  be  a  forced  submission  altogether;  and 
sometimes  feels — though  he  would  not  allow  himself  to 
express  it — as  if  there  was  virtue  in  being  alienated  from 
such  a  being  as  God.  In  this  state  of  mind,  it  is  out  of 
the  question  for  a  man  to  become  a  Christian.  Every 
view  which  he  has  of  the  divine  government  would  stand 
in  the  way  of  his  conversion  ;  and  argument  and  entreaty 
are  in  vain. 

(5.)  A  fifth  class  are  deterred  from  being  Christians  by 
liostility  to  some  member  or  members  of  the  church. 
They  have  made  bargains  with  them  ;  sold  them  goods  ; 
taken  their  notes ;  credited  them  as  they  have  other 
men.  They  have  seen,  they  would  say,  in  one  Chris- 
tian great  meanness  of  spirit ;  in  another  a  disposition 
to  take  every  advantage  in  a  bargain  ;  in  another  who 
has  failed  in  business,  such  proofs  of  dishonesty  as  would 
be  disgraceful  to  men  who  made  scarce  any  pretensions 
to  the  principles  of  common  honesty.  In  another  they 
have  had  the  certain  promise  of  the  payment  of  a 
debt  which  has  as  certainly  failed ;  in  another  they 
cannot  resist  the  conviction  that  he  is  chargeable  with 
fraud.  All  this  is  set  down  to  the  credit  of  Christianity ; 
and  it  needs  no  great  knowledge  of  human  nature  to  see 


96  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

that  where  this  is  seen  or  suspected,  men  cannot  be  easily 
persuaded  to  embrace  a  system  which  produces  such  fruits, 
/acknowledge  the  force  of  this;  or  rather  I  acknowledge 
that  it  would  be  difficult  to  prevent  this  effect  on  my 
mind.  Little  conversant  as  a  minister  is,  and  ought  to 
be,  with  the  commercial  and  political  world ;  and  little 
knowledge  as  he  must  of  necessity  have  of  the  ordinary 
business  transactions  of  life,  I  confess  I  have  seen  and 
known  enough  of  this  to  cease  to  wonder  at  its  inevitable 
effect  on  the  minds  of  upright  men  of  business ;  and  if 
there  is  any  man  of  whom  I  would  speak  in  the  lan- 
guage of  unrestrained  severity,  it  is  of  the  professing 
Christian  who  is  mean  in  the  transaction  of  business ; 
who  makes  promises  only  to  be  broken ;  who  takes  ad- 
vantage of  the  necessity  of  others  to  increase  his  gains ; 
who  borrows  money  not  to  be  repaid  ;  and  who  fails  in 
business  where  falsehood  and  fraud  attend  the  whole 
transaction. 

(6.)  A  sixth  reason  which  prevents  men  from  becom- 
ing Christians  is  worldliness — the  desire  of  this  world's 
goods,  or  pleasures,  or  honors.  Of  all  the  causes  which 
are  in  operation,  this  is  the  most  wide-spread  and  effi- 
cient. The  great  mass  of  men  where  the  gospel  is 
preached  are  not  infidels  or  scoffers,  nor  are  they  sunk  in 
low  and  debasing  vices.  And  though  many  are  deterred 
from  being  Christians  by  secret  unbelief,  or  by  open  vice  ; 
by  some  strong  ruling  passion  which  they  wish  still  to 
indulge,  and  from  which  they  cannot  be  induced  to  part, 
yet  the  largest  proportion  by  far  of  those  whom  we  ad- 
dress is  deterred  by  the  love  of  this  world.  It  is  that 
love  of  wealth,  to  accumulate  and  preserve  which  occu- 
pied all  their  time  and  talent,  which  prevents  their  study- 
ing the  word  of  God,  and  keeps  them  from  prayer  ; 
which  leads  them  often  into  forbidden  paths,  trenches  on 
the  sacredness  of  the  Sabbath,  creates  and  fosters  some 
of  the  passions  most  opposed  to  the  gospel,  and  which 
causes  them  to  defer  attention  to  religion  to  some  future 
period.  It  is  that  love  of  pleasure,  of  gaiety,  of  fashion, 
of  admiration,  of  hilarity,  of  excitement  in  the  unreal 
world  when  they  seek  enjoyment,  that  drives  away  all 
sober  reflection,  every  serious  thought,  and  every  degree 


THE  REASONS  WHY  MEN  ARE  NOT  CHRISTIANS,         97 

of  solicitude  about  the  soul ;  which  closes  their  Bibles, 
and  which  makes  prayer  a  mockery;  which  is  so  unlike 
the  spirit  of  Jesus  and  his  gospel — it  is  this  which  ope- 
rates with  a  large  class  in  preventing  them  from  becom- 
ing Christians.  It  is  that  ambition  which  reigns  in  the 
heart  of  the  unrenewed  man ;  that  fondness  for  being 
known,  and  praised,  and  remembered,  whether  it  mani- 
fest itself  in  laying  the  foundation  for  lasting  literary 
fame  ;  or  for  eminence  in  the  learned  professions  ;  or  for 
official  elevation — it  is  this  which  excludes  religion  from, 
the  heart.  Where  one  is  deterred  from  being  a  Chris- 
tian by  infidelity  or  gross  vice,  ten  are  kept  back  by  one 
of  these  manifestations  of  worldliness.  Let  the  desire 
of  distinction  in  the  ranks  of  worldliness  seize  upon  the 
mind,  the  ambhion  of  going  up  the  steeps  of  fame  from 
one  summit  to  another,  until  you  can  stand  on  the  top 
and  look  all  around  and  see  all  the  world  at  yout  feet, 
and  you  bid  farewell  to  every  serious  thought,  and  every 
desire  of  heaven.  Rendered  dizzy  by  the  height  to  which 
you  have  already  ascended,  and  excited  to  climb  the  still 
more  dangerous  eminences  which  are  just  above  you, 
and  which  it  seems  to  be  desirable  to  surmount,  the  whole 
soul  becomes  absorbed  in  that  high  cnterprize,  and  all  its 
energies  are  concentrated  there.  And  so  in  a  family.  I 
know  of  nothing  that  is  a  more  deadly  foe  to  rehgion  in 
a  family  than  this  miserable  ambition — this  desire  of  en- 
tering on  terms  of  intimacy  the  circles  of  the  aristocracy 
of  fashion  and  v/ealth  ;  tliis  desire  of  leaving  the  quiet 
vale  of  virtue  and  of  peace  for  the  mortifications,  and 
rebufis,  and  heart-breakings  attending  the  effort  to  elbow 
a  family  into  circles  for  which  God  never  designed  them, 
and  where  they  can  never  be  either  happy  or  welcome. 
The  great  cause  why  men  are  not  Christians  is  icorldll' 
ness ;  and  this  is  tlie  grand  reason  why  so  many  are 
excluded  from  the  kingdom  of  God  here  and  in  the  skies. 
I  have  not  time  to  go  through  the  statement  of  the 
causes  as  I  had  intended.  I  might  speak  of  the  dread 
which  men  have  of  the  process  of  conversion ;  of  the 
fear  of  the  gloom  and  sadness  which  they  suppose  pre- 
cedes and  accompanies  regeneration ;  of  the  fear  of  the 
ridicule  and  scorn  of  the  world — operating  on  all  minds ; 

9 


98  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  the  love  of  some  sin — some  ruling  vice — some  master 
passion  that  has  ascendancy  over  the  soul,  but  which 
men  are  ashamed  to  have  known,  and  to  which  they  are 
too  much  attached  to  surrender  it ;  and  of  the  purpose 
which  is  in  most  hearts  to  attend  to  religion  at  a  future 
time  of  life.  But  I  have  occupied  too  much  time  already 
to  speak  of  these,  and  it  is  possible  now  only  to  make  a 
few  remarks  on  the  second  subject  proposed. 

II.  That  was,  to  enquire  whether  these  reasons  for  not 
being  a  Christian  are  satisfactory.  Satisfactory  to  whom? 
you  may  ask.  I  answer,  to  conscience  and  to  God.  Are 
they  such  as  are  sufficient  reasons  for  not  loving  God  ? 

The  duty  of  loving  God  with  all  the  heart,  is  the  first 
duty  recommended  to  men  by  every  precept  of  natural 
and  revealed  religion.  The  duty  of  repentance  is  enjoin- 
ed by  all  that  is  sacred  in  divine  authority,  and  is  re- 
sponded to  by  the  conscience  of  every  sinner.  The  duty 
of  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus — the  great  and  only  Saviour 
of  mankind — is  demanded  on  the  fore  front  of  the  Chris- 
tian message,  and  solemnly  declared  to  be  essential  to 
salvation.  The  necessity  of  being  born  again  is  urged 
in  the  Scriptures  with  a  frequency  and  power  of  which 
my  preaching  is  but  the  faint  and  feeble  echo — often  as 
I  press  it  on  your  attention.  No  duty  is  prior  to  these  in 
time  or  in  momentousness.  Any  and  every  thing  else 
may  be  better  dispensed  with  than  these.  You  can  bet- 
ter by  far  do  without  the  love  of  earthly  friends  than 
without  the  love  of  God.  You  can  better  by  far  do  with- 
out the  wealth  of  this  world  than  the  treasures  of  heaven. 
You  can  better  do  without  an  earthly  mansion,  even  if 
the  earth  were  your  bed  and  the  skies  your  covering, 
than  without  a  building  of  God,  a  house  eternal  in  the 
heavens.  You  can  better  by  far  do  without  fame  and 
praise  in  this  world,  than  you  can  without  the  appro- 
bation of  God  in  the  world  to  come. 

For  these  things  you  are  neglecting  him;  you  are 
neglecting  your  souls.  Are  the  reasons  which  prompt 
you  to  it  satisfactory  ?  Are  they  sufficient  to  render  you 
guiltless  for  neglecting  such  high  and  sacred  obligations  ? 
Reflect  a  moment  on  the  following  considerations — the 
only  remarks  which  I  will  detain  you  now  to  hear. 

(1.)  You  dare  not  yourselves  urge  them  as  the  real 


THE    REASONS    WHY    MEN    ARE    NOT    CHRISTIANS.      99 

cause  why  you  do  not  attend  to  religion,  and  embrace  the 
offers  of  mercy.  They  are  so  Uttle  satisfactory  to  your 
own  minds,  that  when  we  come  to  you  and  urge  you  to 
become  Christians,  we  are  met  with  other  reasons  than 
these.  You  resort  to  some  difficulty  about  the  doctrine 
of  ability,  and  the  decrees  of  God ;  some  metaphysical 
subtlety  that  you  know  may  embarrass  us,  but  which 
you  think  of  on  no  other  occasion.  Who  will  dare  to 
urge  as  a  reason  for  not  becoming  a  Christian  the  fact 
that  he  is  sensual,  or  proud,  or  worldly  minded,  or  am- 
bitious, or  covetous,  or  self-righteous,  or  that  he  regards 
God  as  a  tyrant  ?  And  yet  one  or  all  of  these  may  be 
the  basis  of  every  reason  why  you  are  not  Christians. 
Can  that  be  a  satisfactory  reason  for  a  man's  conduct 
which  he  is  ashamed  himself  to  avow  ?  Can  that  be  the 
true  reason  which  he  avows  for  the  purpose  of  embar- 
rassing others,  while  another  is  buried  deep  in  his  bosom  ? 
(2.)  These  excuses  will  not  stand  when  a  man  is 
convicted  for  sin.  He  then  ceases  to  urge  that  he  is  up- 
right and  moral ;  that  he  has  injured  no  one  ;  that  there 
can  be  no  danger  for  one  who  has  lived  as  he  has  done ; 
that  there  are  hypocrites  in  the  church ;  that  he  has  been 
wronged  by  professors  of  religion  ;  and  that  he  is  afraid 
of  the  ridicule  of  mankind.  He  feels  then  that  he  must 
have  a  better  righteousness  than  can  be  manufactured 
out  of  such  materials,  and  that  with  these  excuses  he 
cannot  venture  to  appear  at  the  bar  of  God.  There  is  a 
power  in  conviction  for  sin  which  is  m  advance  of  all 
the  arguments  which  men  can  urge.  It  is  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost — under  whose  influences  cavils,  and  ob- 
jections, and  self-reliances  suddenly  vanish.  Under  that 
power,  men  feel  at  once,  despite  all  that  they  have  said, 
and  all  the  arguments  on  which  they  have  relied,  that 
they  are  sinners,  and  that  they  are  exposed  to  the  wrath 
of  God.  It  is  the  argument  that  is  felt,  and  which  is 
irresistible  on  the  soul.  There  is  an  access  to  the  soul 
of  the  sinner  which  God  has,  but  which  no  mortal  man 
can  have,  and  I  appeal  7iow  to  the  fact  that  when  men 
are  brought  under  conviction  for  sin,  they  at  once  see 
that  all  their  excuses  for  not  being  Christians  are  vain. 
Who  are  they  who  are  thus  convicted  ?  Who,  by  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  have  been  made  to  see  that 


100  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

they  are  sinners,  and  have  yielded  their  hearts  up  to 
God  ?  Need  I  answer  ?  They  are  such  as  have  urged 
all  the  excuses  to  which  I  have  adverted  in  this  discourse, 
or  such  as  have  felt  them  all  in  their  hearts.  They  are 
men  who  reason  as  well  as  who  feel;  they  are  those 
who  were  moral  as  well  as  those  who  were  immoral ; 
men  not  strangers  to  learning  and  science,  as  well  as 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  letters ;  and  they  who  have 
moved  not  without  grace  and  loveliness  in  elevated  ranks 
as  well  as  those  of  more  humble  walks  in  life.  All, 
when  the  hour  comes  in  which  God  designs  to  bring  them 
into  his  kingdom,  confess  that  they  had  no  good  reasons 
for  not  being  his  friends,  and  for  their  having  so  long  re- 
fused to  yield  to  the  claims  of  God. 

(3.)  The  same  thing  occurs  on  the  bed  of  death.  The 
mind  then  is  often  overwhelmed,  and  under  the  convic- 
tion that  the  excuses  for  not  being  a  Christian  were  in- 
sufficient, the  sinner  in  horror  dies.  But  I  will  not  dwell 
on  that.     I  pass  to  one  other  consideration. 

(4.)  It  is  this.  These  excuses  will  not  be  admitted 
at  the  bar  of  God.  Suppose  they  were,  what  would  fol- 
low ?  Why,  that  you  would  enter  heaven — for  God  will 
admit  all  to  heaven,  unless  there  is  some  good  reason  for 
not  doing  it.  No  man  will  be  sent  to  hell  unless  there 
is  a  reason  for  it  which  will  be  satisfactory;  a  cause 
which  cannot  be  removed  by  sympathy,  or  by  infinite 
benevolence.  If  your  excuses,  then,  for  not  being  Chris- 
tians are  good,  they  will  be  admitted  on  the  final  trial,  and 
you  will  be  received  into  heaven.  And  what  then  ? 
Why,  you  will  be  saved  because  you  did  not  believe  that 
you  were  as  depraved  as  God  had  represented  you  to 
be ;  and  you^  because  you  did  not  believe  what  he  had 
said  of  future  punishment ;  and  you^  because  you  were 
sceptical  on  the  whole  subject  of  religion — saved  by 
unbelief ,  not  by  faith  ;  and  you,  because  you  believed 
that  God  was  cruel  and  tyrannical  in  his  character  and 
government,  and  because  there  was  so  much  merit  in 
cherishing  that  opinion  of  him  that  he  ought  to  save 
you  ;  and  you,  because  his  professed  friends  had  injured 
you,  and  you  hated  religion  on  that  account ;  and  you, 
because  you  were  so  worldly,  and  ambitious,  and  vain, 
and  proud,  that  you  neglected  religion  altogether :  you, 


THE  REASONS  WHY  MEN  ARE  NOT  CHRISTIANS.      101 

because  you  were  afraid  of  the  ridicule  of  the  world  ; 
and  yon,  because  you  cherished  some  ruling,  forbidden 
lust  which  nehher  the  command  of  God,  nor  the  love  of 
Christ,  nor  the  fear  of  hell  would  induce  you  to  surren- 
der. And  then  what  a  place  would  be  heaven  !  Wliat 
sympathy  you  would  have  with  the  redeemed !  What 
communion  of  spirit  with  the  martyrs  !  What  fellow- 
ship with  the  Lord  Jesus  !  What  gratitude  would  you 
have  to  him  for  salvation  !  But,  my  hearers,  do  you  be- 
lieve that  you  are  to  be  saved  in  that  way  ? — I,  for  one, 
do  not.  These  are  not  the  reasons  why  men  are  to  enter 
into  heaven. 

I  wish  to  get,  by  this  discourse,  at  least  one  idea  be- 
fore your  minds.  It  is  this.  If  you  have  a  good  reason 
now  for  not  being  a  Christian,  it  will  be  good  at  the  bar 
of  God.  If  not  good  then  and  there,  it  is  worth  nothing 
now.  If  it  will  not  be  the  ground  of  your  admission 
into  heaven,  it  is  of  no  value.  Will  you  risk  your  soul's 
salvation,  then,  on  the  reasons  which  now  operate  to 
prevent  your  becoming  a  Christian?  A  question  than 
which  none  more  important  ever  demanded  your  atten- 
tion. 

I  close  here.  You  see  the  conclusion  to  which  we 
have  come.  If  these  reasons  are  not  satisfactory ;  if 
none  on  which  you  rely  are  satisfactory,  then  you  ought 
to  be  a  Christian. —  To  he  a  Christian.  There  is  safety. 
There  the  mind  finds  rest.  There,  in  the  love  of  God, 
and  in  dependence  on  the  Saviour,  and  in  the  hope  of 
heaven,  man  feels  that  he  does  right.  For  that  he 
needs  no  excuse  ;  he  desires  no  apology.  He  is  con- 
scious of  no  wrong-doing  when  he  gives  up  his  heart  to 
God  ;  he  looks  back  with  no  self-reproaches  for  it  when 
he  contemplates  it  from  the  bed  of  death.  The  reasons 
which  induce  him  to  give  himself  to  God  are  conclusive 
to  his  own  mind  ;  satisfactory  to  his  friends  ;  approved 
by  his  Judge.  No  man  has,  or  ever  has  had  remorse  of 
conscience  for  being  a  Christian ;  no  man  has  self-re- 
proaches for  it  on  a  bed  of  death.  The  mind  then  is  at 
rest ;  it  is  free  from  the  anguish  of  remorse,  from  alarms. 
Who,  then,  to-day  will  seek  that  peace,  and  the  smiles  of 
an  approving  conscience,  and  of  God  ? 

9* 


SERMON  VII. 

THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOD. 

Jeremiah  ii.  13.  My  people  have  committed  two  evils  ; — they  have 
forsaken  me  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  hewed  them  out  cisterns, 
broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water. 

The  text  affirms  that  man  is  guilty  of  two  evils.  One 
is,  that  he  has  wandered  away  from  God.  The  other  is, 
that  he  has  sought  for  happiness  in  objects  which  are  in- 
capable of  affording  it.  Tliere  is  the  evil  of  guilt,  and  the 
evil  of  wretchedness ;  the  evil  of  withholding  the  affections 
from  the  true  source  of  blessedness,  and  the  evil  of  fixing 
them  on  improper  objects ;  the  evil  of  going  away  from  a 
fountain  where  happiness  might  be  found,  and  the  evil 
of  attempting  to  find  it  in  other  objects  as  a  compen- 
sation for  that  which  is  lost  by  forsaking  God.  Men 
have  sought  happiness  by  going  away  from  God.  They 
have  been  disappointed.  They  have  not  found  it.  That 
which  they  have  found  bears  the  same  relation  to  true 
enjoyment  which  a  cistern  that  is  broken  and  leaky 
does  to  a  running  fountain.  Such  a  cistern  may  have  a 
great  deal  of  beauty.  It  may  be  cut  from  the  finest  mar- 
ble, and  ornamented  with  all  the  skill  of  art.  It  may 
be  placed  in  a  beautiful  grove,  or  it  may  occupy  the 
splendid  court  of  an  oriental  palace — but  if  it  is  cracked 
and  broken,  however  much  it  may  be  admired,  it  fails  in 
the  design  for  which  it  was  made,  and  for  which  a  cis- 
tern is  desirable. 

Man  has  gone  off  from  God,  the  great  fountain  of 
blessedness.  He  is  a  wanderer  and  an  exile.  He  has 
substituted  in  the  place  of  God  that  which  is  the  fruit  of 
his  own  invention,  and  thus  far  the  history  of  this  world 
is  little  else  than  an  experiment  to  ascertain  whether  the 
soul  can  be  satisfied  without  God,  and  whether  the  forms 
of  amusement  and  business  can  be  so  modified  and  varied 
and  refined  that  man  can  find  in  them  the  happiness 
which  his  immortal  nature  demands.  It  is  a  most  inter- 
ior 


THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOD.  103 

esting  inquiry  whether  he  has  been  successful  in  the  pur- 
suit, or  whether  it  has  been  hke  forsaking  a  fountain 
bubbhng  in  the  desert  for  a  splendid  but  broken  cistern. 
To  that  enquiry  I  propose  now  to  direct  your  attention. 
I  shall  confine  my  remarks  to  two  points. 

I.  What  has  man  substituted  in  the  place  of  God  ?  and 

II.  Has  it  answered  the  purpose,  or  has  it  been  suc- 
cessful ? 

I.  What  has  man  substituted  in  the  place  of  the  happi- 
ness which  might  have  been  found  in  God  ? 

The  text  says  that  he  has  forsaken  God — the  foimtain 
of  living  waters.  Let  us  dwell  a  moment  on  these 
words. — "  Living  waters.''^  They  are  not  dead  and  stag- 
nant— but  running — and  imparting  life.  Nothing  is  more 
beautiful  than  a  running  stream.  In  the  East  the  course 
of  a  stream  through  a  desert  can  be  traced  afar  by  the 
trees,  and  shrubs,  and  flowers,  and  grass  that  spring  up 
on  its  bank,  and  that  are  sustained  by  it  in  its  course — 
a  long  waving  line  oi  green  in  the  waste  of  sand.  Where 
it  winds  along,  that  line  of  verdure  winds  along ;  where 
it  expands  into  a  lake  that  expands ;  where  it  dies  away 
and  is  lost  in  the  sand  that  disappears.  So  with  the 
blessedness  flowing  from  the  living  fountain  of  waters. 
Life,  the  true  life  in  this  world,  can  be  traced  by  the 
flowing  forth  of  those  streams  from  God.  Where  those 
streams  flow,  health  and  happiness  spring  up  ;  where  they 
are  unseen  true  happiness  disappears,  and  the  Avorld  is  a 
desert. — "  A  fountain.''^  God  is  a  "fountain''^  of  living 
waters — he  is  the  source  whence  all  the  streams  of  bliss 
take  their  rise.  The  fountain  is  ever  fresh,  ever  pure,  ever 
full.  The  streams  of  blessedness  begin  to  flow  there  ;  and 
should  that  fountain  cease,  every  stream  would  die  away, 
and  the  whole  world  would  be  an  arid  waste. 

My  proposition  is,  that  men  have  forsaken  that  ever- 
living  fountain.  I  do  not  now  speak  merely  of  the 
idolatrous  world — of  man  who  there  has  forsaken  God, 
and  who  bows  down  to  shapeless  blocks.  I  speak  of 
man  as  man — in  whatever  form  the  departure  may  ap- 
pear; and  I  rather  wish  to  show  how  the  human  heart  has 
gone  ofl"  from  God  so  that  ice  may  feel  it  of  ourselves, 
than  to  turn  your  thoughts  to  far-distant  idolaters  and 
philosophers.    I  could  illustrate  it  of  the  ancient  Hebrews, 


104  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  Hindoo,  the  Chinese,  the  Tartar,  the  African,  the 
New  Zealander ;  I  could  iUustrate  it  by  the  opinions  and 
feeUngs  of  the  ancient  philosopher ;  but  I  have  a  more 
striking  and  more  interesting  source  of  iUustration  here — 
in  our  own  famihes — and  our  own  hearts — and  the  illus- 
tration will  be  confined  mainly  to  ourselves. 

It  can  be  scarcely  necessary  to  go  into  an  extended 
statement  of  what  man  has  substituted  in  the  place  of  the 
happiness  which  he  is  unwilling  to  seek  in  his  Maker,  or 
which  is  the  same  thing  in  the  hopes  and  consolations  of 
religion.  A  very  brief  enumeration  is  all  that  the  time 
will  admit,  and  is  all  that  is  demanded  in  order  to  a  pro- 
per understanding  of  our  subject. 

A  part  have  sought  it  in  philosophy.  They  have  re- 
treated from  the  bustle  and  the  turmoil  of  life.  They 
have  sought  enjoyment  in  calm  contemplation  on  the  re- 
lations of  things,  and  on  the  abstract  questions  of  philo- 
sophic inquiry.  They  have  sought  to  raise  themselves 
above  suffering  by  rendering  the  mind  insensible  to  the 
common  ills  of  life,  and  they  attempt  to  separate  them- 
selves from  the  common  herd  of  mortals  by  their  insensi- 
bility to  the  woes  which  affect  the  mass  of  mankind. 
They  are  the  stoics  of  all  ages — who  whether  in  the  cos- 
tume and  pride  of  the  ancient  Grecian  philosophers  ;  or  in 
the  Buddhism  of  China  and  India ;  or  in  the  monkish 
system  of  the  middle  ages ;  or  in  the  occasional  victim  of 
this  wretched  insanity  who  retires  to  caverns  and  rocks 
in  modern  times  ;  or  in  the  cool  contemplative  philosopher 
who  lives  but  to  speculate,  or  to  laugh  at  the  follies  of 
mankind,  have  sought  for  happiness  in  the  same  way  by 
supposing  that  it  consisted  in  insensibility  to  suffering, 
and  in  that  pride  which  looks  with  disdain  on  the  mass 
of  mankind. 

A  part,  men  of  leisure  and  of  taste,  fly  to  the  acade- 
mic grove,  and  look  for  happiness  there.  They  go  up 
the  sides  of  Parnassus,  and  drink  from  the  Castalian  fount, 
and  court  the  society  of  the  Muses.  Their  enjoyment, 
and  their  solace,  is  in  the  pursuit  of  elegant  literature. 
Their  time  is  spent  in  belles-lettres— in  the  records  of  his- 
toric truth,  or  in  the  world  of  poetry  and  of  fiction.  Our 
land  furnishes  as  yet  less  of  this  than  countries  where 
men  are  favored  with  more  hereditary  wealth,  and  more 


THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOD.  105 

"  learned  leisure ;"  but  there  are  not  a  few  who  have 
such  leisure,  and  not  a  few,  it  is  to  be  feared,  who  sub- 
stitute such  sources  of  happiness  in  the  place  of  that 
which  is  derived  from  the  fountain  of  living  waters.  As 
wealth  increases  ;  and  as  leisure  is  multiplied,  the  desire 
for  this  species  of  happiness  will  increase — increase  not 
as  it  ought  to  in  connexion  with  religion,  and  with  the 
cuhivation  of  the  graces  of  a  renovated  spirit,  but  as  the 
substitute  for  religion,  and  as  in  fact  the  excluder  of 
God  from  the  soul.  From  the  cares  and  troubles  of  life 
they  will  flee  to  these  calm  retreats  as  a  refuge,  and  seek 
there  to  forget  their  sorrows,  and  to  escape  from  the 
dreadful  apprehension  of  death  and  the  judgment. 

Another,  and  a  much  larger  portion,  have  substituted 
the  pursuit  of  wealth  in  place  of  religion,  and  their  hap- 
piness is  there.  This  has  become  almost  the  universal 
passion  of  civilized  man.  Yet  it  is  not  happiness  so  much 
sought  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth  itself,  as  in  something  be- 
yond. The  cultivator  of  elegant  literature  seeks  his  en- 
joyment in  the  pursuit  itself,  and  tastes  the  bliss  which 
he  seeks  as  he  goes  on  the  journey  of  life ;  the  man  seek- 
ing wealth  expects  his  happiness  not  in  the  pursuit,  but 
in  that  which  wealth  will  procure.  He  looks  on  to  the 
old  age  of  elegant  retirement  and  leisure  which  is  before 
him ;  he  sees  in  vision  the  comforts  which  he  will  be  able 
to  draw  around  him  in  the  splendid  mansion,  and  grounds, 
and  in  the  abundance  which  his  old  age  will  enjoy.  He 
crosses  the  ocean,  and  spends  the  vigor  of  his  days  in 
Calcutta  or  in  Canton,  not  because  he  has  pleasure  in  a 
voyage  at  sea ;  or  in  the  long  exile  from  home ;  or  in  the 
society  in  a  distant  land ;  or  in  the  burning  heats  of  a  tro- 
pical sun,  but  because  he  has  fixed  his  eye  on  the  com- 
forts which  amassed  wealth  will  spread  around  him  when 
he  shall  return. 

A  large  portion,  perhaps  nearly  as  large  a  portion  as 
can  aff'ord  the  means — and  many  of  those  who  cannot — 
seek  for  happiness  in  the  brilliant  world  of  songs  and 
dances;  in  the  splendid  circles  where  God  is  forgotten, 
and  where  prayer  is  unknown.  For  that  they  live  ;  and 
the  pleasure  which  is  sought  there  is  made  a  substitute 
for  that  which  might  be,  and  which  should  be  sought  in 
God.     No  one  can  deny  that  vast  talent  is  often  exhibited 


lOG  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

to  make  that  gay  world  fascinating  and  alluring;  and 
that  no  inconsiderable  success  is  evinced  in  accomplishing 
the  object  in  view.  It  would  be  strange  if  such  a  plan 
were  wholly  unsuccessful.  With  princely  wealth  at 
command ;  with  ample  leisure ;  with  the  full  choice  of 
means ;  and  with  a  heart  intently  set  on  the  object,  it 
would  be  strange  if  something  could  not  be  originated 
that  would,  for  the  time  being,  be  some  substitute  for  the 
happiness  which  should  be  sought  in  God.  But  nothing 
on  earth  was  ever  designed  in  a  more  determinate  man- 
ner to  exclude  God.  Neither  prayer,  nor  praise,  nor 
worship  of  any  form ;  neither  the  remembrance  of  God, 
nor  the  anticipation  of  a  holy  heaven ;  neither  conversa- 
tion on  the  Bible,  the  cross,  or  the  peace  of  pardon  and 
hope,  come  in  for  any  share  of  the  joys.  It  begins  by 
forsaking  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  it  is  conducted 
by  whatever  can  be  best  made  a  substitute  for  the  happi- 
ness to  be  found  in  religion. 

I  might  go  on  to  speak  of  many  other  substitutes  which 
men  have  adopted  in  the  place  of  the  happiness  which 
should  be  sought  in  God,  and  which  constitute  the  ^  cis- 
terns, broken  cisterns  which  they  have  hewed  out  for 
themselves.'  I  might  speak  of  the  career  of  high  and 
so-called  honorable  ambition — whether  manifested  in 
seeking  office,  in  deeds  of  glory  or  the  battle-field,  in  the 
walks  of  science,  or  in  the  pride  of  authorship ;  of  the 
drama,  with  all  that  is  fascinating  and  captivating  there ; 
of  the  love  of  travel,  and  of  hazardous  enterprise  in  visit- 
ing distant  lands ;  of  the  arts  of  painting,  and  music,  and 
statuary ;  of  the  pleasures  of  the  table ;  of  the  couch  of 
luxury  and  ease,  and  of  the  indulgence  in  "  the  lusts  that 
war  against  the  soul" — of  the  low  and  debasing  vices 
in  which  so  many  millions  of  the  human  race  are  at  all 
times  seeking  enjoyment.  Not  all  these  things  would  I 
condemn  for  the  same  reason ;  some  of  them,  if  pursued 
with  right  motives,  are  not  to  be  condemned  at  all.  I 
speak  of  them  only  as  substitutes  for  the  happiness  which 
men  might  find  in  God ;  as  devices  to  which  they  have 
resorted  to  make  their  sojourn  on  earth  in  any  way  toler- 
able, and  as  adapted  to  hide  as  much  as  possible  the  me- 
lancholy close  of  that  sojourn  from  view,  and  to  keep  the 
mind  from  sadness  and  despaii*. 


THE    MISERY    OF    TORSAKING    GOD.  107 

All  these  things — diifering  as  they  do  in  regard  to  their 
worth  or  worthlessness  ;  their  dignity  or  meanness ;  their 
purity  or  their  impurity ;  and  differing  in  regard  to  the 
numbers  and  the  ranks  of  those  who  pursue  them,  yet 
agree  in  two  things :  (1.)  All  are  resorted  to  in  pursuit  of 
happiness;  and  (2.)  all  this  happiness  is  pursued  by  the 
exclusion  of  God.  They  are  a  part  of  that  great  system 
which  consists  in  forsaking  the  fountain  of  living  waters, 
and  in  hewing  out  broken  cisterns  which  can  hold  no 
water.  They  constitute  the  great  scheme  of  an  alienated 
and  a  talented  world  to  find  enjoyment  without  God. — 
They  exhibit  the  result  of  the  experiment  which  has  been 
now  pursued  for  about  six  thousand  years,  and  with  a 
talent  and  zeal  worthy  of  any  cause,  to  see  whether  the 
happiness  lost  by  the  apostasy  in  Eden  can  be  recovered 
without  returning  to  God  ;  whether  the  cracked  and 
broken  cistern  can  be  so  repaired  and  beautified  as  not  to 
make  it  necessary  to  come  back  to  the  fountain  of  living 
waters ;  and  whether  the  calamities  and  woes  which  the 
apostasy  from  God  introduced  can  be  put  back  without 
the  painful  necessity  of  returning  to  the  much-hated  God 
from  whom  the  race  has  revolted. 

It  is  a  very  interesting  question  now,  whether  the  plan 
has  been  successful ;  whether  it  is  wise  to  pursue  it  any 
further;  or  whether  the  voice  of  wisdom  would  not 
prompt  man  to  return  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters. 

II.  Our  second  inquiry,  therefore,  is,  whether  the  plan 
is  successful  ?  Has  it  answered  the  purpose  which  was 
contemplated  ?  Can  the  cistern  which  man  has  hewed 
out  for  himself  be  made  to  answer  the  purpose  of  the 
fountain  of  living  waters  ? 

These  are  questions,  evidently,  which  are  to  be  settled 
by  experience ;  and  in  making  the  appeal  to  experience 
there  are  two  enquiries  to  be  answered.  The  first  is, 
what  is  happiness  ?  The  second,  can  happiness  be  found 
in  these  things  ? 

What  is  happiness  ?  I  shall  not  go  largely  into  the  ex- 
amination of  this  question,  for  it  is  not  necessary,  and  I 
can  easily  foresee  that  such  an  examination  would  be 
tiresome.  There  are  two  or  three  principles  which  it  is 
important  to  state  in  order  to  a  correct  answer  of  the  other 
question  proposed.     Happiness  does  not  consist  in  mere 


108  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

excitement,  or  laughter,  or  exhilaration,  or  ecstacy. — 
These  may  be  found  I  admit  without  difficulty  in  this 
world — and  may  be  found  in  abundance.  The  ball-room ; 
the  comedy ;  the  low  farce ;  the  intoxicating  bowl ;  the 
place  of  boisterous  amusement  will  furnish  them.  But 
there  are  occasions  when  "  laughter  is  mad ;"  and  all  this 
merriment  and  excitement  may  be  attended  or  followed 
with  an  under  current  of  sorrow  that  shall  leave  the  soul 
to  grief.  In  true  happiness  there  must  be  always  found 
certain  elements,  or  certain  essential  principles,  among 
which  are  the  following:  (1.)  It  must  be  adapted  to  the 
nature  of  man,  or  fitted  to  his  true  rank  or  dignity.  It 
would  be  absurd  to  suppose  that  the  philosopher  could 
find  permanent  happiness  in  playing  marbles,  or  an  angel 
in  blowing  of  bubbles.  These  are  the  amusements  of 
children,  and  should  God  confine  elevated  minds  to  such 
an  employment  forever  it  would  be  to  doom  such  minds  to 
an  eternal  hell.  So  it  must  be  with  all  trifles.  They  may 
amuse  and  divert  for  a  little  while,  but  they  are  not 
adapted  to  the  elevated  nature  of  the  soul,  and  their 
power  must  fail.  (2.)  Again,  there  must  be  some  perma- 
nency— some  solid  basis  on  which  the  superstructure  is  to 
be  reared.  Happiness  cannot  be  found  in  a  palace  if  that 
palace  may  at  any  moment  fall  down  ;  in  a  cottage,  if  the 
wind  may  at  any  moment  sweep  it  away ;  in  an  office,  if 
at  any  moment  it  may  be  given  to  another ;  in  beauty 
that  must  soon  fade ;  in  health  and  strength,  that  must 
soon  become  feeble  ;  in  a  scene  of  pleasure,  if  it  may  soon 
be  succeeded  by  grief.  Who  would  be  willing  to  stake 
his  chance  of  happiness  on  the  permanency  of  the  bright- 
est rainbow,  or  on  the  vivid  lightning's  flash,  or  on  the 
fixedness  of  the  colors  of  the  gorgeous  clouds  in  a  sum- 
mer evening  ?  Yet  such  a  basis  would  be  as  secure  as 
half  the  happiness  that  is  sought  in  the  gay  world.  (3.) 
Again,  in  true  happiness  in  this  world  there  must  be  a 
recognition  of  immortality.  This  must  be,  because  man 
is  so  made  that  he  cannot  wholly  forget  it.  There  is  a 
consciousness  in  us  of  an  immortal  nature.  There  is  a 
longing  after  immortality  that  will  be  continually  mani- 
festing itself  in  spite  of  all  that  men  can  do.  It  Avill  break 
out  like  sunshine  between  clouds,  and  men  will  feel  they 
have  souls  that  can  never  die ;  and  he  who  is  unwilling 


THE  MISERY  OF  FORSAKING  GOD.  109 

to  recognize  that,  can  never  be  permanently  happy. 
Nature  will  be  true  to  herself  and  to  the  God  that  has 
made  all  things ;  and  there  are  too  many  indications 
within  us  that  we  are  immortal,  and  too  many  mementoes 
around  us  to  remind  us  that  we  are  travellers  to  a  per- 
manent home  whatever  it  may  be,  to  suffer  us  always  to 
forget  it.  (4.)  Once  more.  True  happiness  must  be  of 
such  a  nature  that  it  will  not  be  materially  disturbed  by 
the  prospect  of  sickness,  the  grave,  and  eternity.  These 
subjects  are  so  frequently  urged  upon  us ;  they  pass  along 
before  us  with  such  solemn  and  admonitory  aspects ;  they 
are  liable  to  come  so  near  to  us  at  any  moment,  that  our 
sources  of  permanent  happiness  should  be  such  that  the 
mention  of  the  grave  would  not  dry  them  up ;  our  joys 
should  be  such  that  the  word  "  eternity"  would  not  put 
them  all  to  flight.  "  My  Athenian  guest,"  said  Croesus 
to  Solon,  "  the  voice  of  fame  speaks  loudly  of  your  wis- 
dom. I  have  heard  much  of  your  travels  ;  you  have  been 
led  by  a  philosophic  spirit  to  visit  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  globe.  I  am  here  induced  to  enquire  of  you  what 
man,  of  all  you  have  beheld,  has  seemed  to  you  most 
truly  happy."  After  one  or  two  unsatisfactory  answers, 
and  being  pressed  still  for  a  reply,  Solon  said,  "  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  give  a  satisfactory  answer  to  the  question  you 
propose  till  I  know  that  your  scene  of  life  shall  have 
closed  with  tranquillity.  The  man  of  afliuence  is  not  in 
fact  more  happy  than  the  possessor  of  a  bare  competency, 
unless  in  addition  to  his  wealth  his  end  be  more  fortunate. 
Call  no  man  happy  till  you  know  the  nature  of  his  death. 
It  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  look  to  the  event  of  things ;  for 
the  Deity  often  overwhelms  with  misery  those  who  have 
formerly  been  placed  at  the  summit  of  felicity.^^  Herod. 
1.  24.  32.  Our  happiness  must  not  be  of  such  a  nature 
as  to  be  disturbed  by  the  recognition  of  death,  and  the 
anticipation  of  a  future  world.  That  which  is  dissipated 
by  the  mention  of  the  grave — whatever  else  you  may  call 
it — ecstasy,  hilarity,  laughter,  merriment,  is  not  happi- 
ness ;  that  which  is  put  to  flight  by  the  word  eternity 
cannot  be  the  kind  of  enjoyment  fitted  to  the  nature  of 
man. 

You  say,  perhaps,  I  have  given  my  own  definition  of 
the  word  happiness,  and  that  it  will  now  be  easy  for  me 

10 


110  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

to  show  that  the  happiness  which  man  seeks  cannot  be 
found  away  from  God.  I  admit  that  this  is  true  ;  and 
that  your  notions  of  happiness  may  differ  materially  from 
mine.  And  yet  it  seems  to  me  you  cannot  but  admit  that 
happiness  must  embody  or  admit  these  elements.  It 
must  be  adapted  to  our  nature.  It  must  have  some  evi- 
dence of  permanency.  It  must  recognize  our  immortality. 
It  must  be  of  such  a  kind  that  it  will  not  be  disturbed 
by  the  mention  of  death  and  eternity.  With  these  prin- 
ciples before  us,  let  us  now  inquire  whether  man  has 
found  tliat  which  he  has  sought  by  going  away  from  the 
fouutahi  of  livhig  waters ;  or  whether  he  has  not  hewed 
out  to  himself  broken  cisterns. 

My  appeal  is  mainly  to  experience — and  here  the  argu- 
ment need  not  be  long.  The  experience  of  the  world  on 
this  point  may  be  divided  into  two  great  parts — the  re- 
corded and  the  unrecorded.  Which  contains  the  larger 
portion  is  not  material  to  our  inquiry,  and  either  would 
be  decisive  of  the  controversy.  Of  the  recorded  testimony 
of  the  world,  I  appeal  to  the  records  made  on  sick  beds, 
and  in  graves;  to  the  disappointments,  and  cares,  and 
anxieties,  evinced  all  over  the  world  as  the  result  of  the 
revolt  in  Eden,  and  of  wandering  away  from  God. 

Recall  for  one  moment  what  the  forsaking  of  God 
has  done.  Whence  is  sorrow,  disappointment,  pain, 
death  ?  The  misery  of  our  world  all  began  at  that  sad 
hour  when  man  ate  the  fruit  of  the  forbidden  tree. — 
What  miglit  not  this  world  have  been  if  man  had  never 
forsaken  the  fountain  of  living  waters !  The  bliss  of 
Eden  might  have  been  prolonged  to  the  present  time, 
and  not  a  tear  have  been  shed,  not  a  sigh  heard,  not 
a  couch  spread  for  the  sick  and  the  dyhig;  and  the  earth 
Avould  never  have  opened  its  bosom  to  furnish  a  grave  ! 
Every  sorrow,  every  tear,  every  sad  hour  among  men 
has  been  caused  by  the  fact  that  man  has  forsaken  his 
God ;  and  tlie  woes  of  the  earth  are  an  impressive  com- 
mentary on  the  fact  which  I  am  endeavormg  to  illustrate — 
the  evil  of  forsaking  God. 

If  I  had  time  I  would  like  to  follow  out  the  effect  of  it 
in  a  single  case.  I  would  show  the  effect  of  it  from  the 
first  moment  of  apostasy,  to  the  last  act  when  the  sinner 
attempts  to  exclude  God  from  the  soul  on  the  bed  of 


THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOP.  HI 

death.  I  wouM  take  such  a  case  as  that  of  Cain — the  first 
instance,  juihaps,  of  one  who  forsoolc  the  fountain  of 
Hvini;  waters  no  more  to  return,  and  the  oldest  eiuthly 
inliahitant  now,  perha}>s,  of  the  world  of  desj)air.  Nor 
do  1  know  hut  I  might  he  allowed  in  doing  this  to  make 
use  of  a  celehrated  i)ocn),full  of  hlasphemy,  of  the  name 
"  Cain  ;"  expressive,  I  douht  not,  of  tlie  real  feelings  of 
this  early  apostate,  and  so  true  and  graphic  hecause  it 
was  drawn  from  the  deep  fountain  of  unhelief  and  hlas- 
phemy in  the  heart  of  its  titled,  hut  miserahle  author. 
The  suhject  of  the  poem,  and  the  author  of  the  poem, 
might  alike  furnish  us  an  illustration  of  the  essential 
misery  of  tlie  man  who  lias  forsaken  the  fountain  of  living 
waters: — the  one  a  fugitive,  a  muixlerer,  a  vagahond,  in  a 
l)eautiful  world  fresh  from  the  liandof  God; — the  otlier  a 
nol)lenian,  an  inheritor  of  a  palace — and  yet  a  miserable 
inisanthro})e — and,  like  Cain,  an  unhappy  wanderer  from 
land  to  land. 

But  why  look  to  Cain,  or  to  die  not  inappropriate  his- 
torian of  his  blasi)heniies  ?  Look  at  our  world  at  large — 
a  dying  world — full  of  sadness  alid  wo.  Look  at  the  bold 
blasphemer — who  is  yet,  if  ever,  for  the  first  moment  to 
know  peace.  Look  at  the  infidel,  the  sceptic — without  a 
(rod,  without  a  Saviour,  whose  hope  is  chance,  whose 
peace  is  the  troubled  sea.  Look  at  the  convicted  sinner — 
over  whose  head  the  thunder  of  justice  rolls,  and  at  whose 
feet  the  lightnings  of  vengeance  play  because  he  has  for- 
saken his  God.  Look  into  your  own  heart,  to  this  moment 
devoid  of  true  peace  unless  you  are  a  renewed  and  par- 
doned man.  Look  at  the  death-bed  of  a  sinner;  read  in 
some  moment  of  leisure  the  account  of  the  dying  moments 
of  Voltaire,  D'Alembert,  or  Robespierre — and  you  will 
neither  need  nor  ask  any  further  illustration  of  the  misery 
of  forsaking  God. 

Again,  for  an  important  record  of  the  capability  of  this 
world  to  furnish  the  happiness  which  man  desires,  I 
refer  to  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes.  Never  had  man  more 
ample  opportunities  of  finding  happiness  in  all  that  this 
world  can  bestow  than  Solomon  had.  With  abundant 
wealth;  with  all  the  means  of  luxury  which  his  age  and 
lantl,  and  a  somewhat  extended  foreign  commerce  could 
furnish  ;  with  peace  at  home  and  abroad  ;  he  early  forgot 


112  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  counsel  of  a  pious  father,  and  forsook  his  father's  God. 
At  the  close  of  a  hfe  over  which  he  had  much  occasion  to 
mourn,  he  is  behoved  to  have  written  the  hook  of  Eccle- 
siastes,  as  an  expression  of  his  sense  of  the  power  of  this 
world  to  furnish  happiness.  "  I  said  in  mine  heart  I  will 
prove  thee  with  mirth;  therefore,  enjoy  pleasure.  I  sought 
in  mine  heart  to  give  myself  unto  wine,  and  to  lay  hold 
on  folly  till  I  might  see  what  was  that  good  for  the  sons 
of  men,  which  they  should  do  under  the  heaven  all  the 
days  of  their  life.  I  made  me  great  works  ;  1  builded  me 
houses ;  I  planted  me  vineyards ;  I  made  me  gardens  and 
orchards,  and  I  planted  trees  in  them  of  all  kinds  of  fruits. 
I  gathered  me  also  silver  and  gold,  and  the  peculiar  trea- 
sure of  kings  and  of  the  provinces  :  I  gat  me  men-singers 
and  women-singers,  and  the  delights  of  the  sons  of  men, 
as  musical  instruments,  and  that  of  all  sorts.  And  what- 
soever mine  eyes  desired  I  kept  not  from  them,  I  with- 
held not  my  heart  from  any  joy.  Then  I  looked  on  all 
the  works  that  my  hands  had  wrought,  and  behold  all 
was  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,  and  there  was  no 
profit  under  the  sun  ''  "  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  va- 
nity," was  the  result  of  perhaps  the  largest  and  the 
best  conducted  experiment  of  the  kind  ever  undertaken 
by  man.  At  the  close  of  a  dissatisfied  life  we  may  trust 
this  illustrious  wanderer  from  God  returned  to  the  foun- 
tain of  living  waters,  and  this  instructive  record  he  has 
left  to  admonish  all  those  who  would  tread  in  his  foot- 
steps, that  however  far  they  may  go,  and  however  they 
may  vary  the  experiment,  they  will  come  to  the  same 
result. 

"I  now  read  Solomon,''  said  Lord  Chesterfield  when 
sixty-six  years  of  age,  and  near  the  close  of  his  unenviable 
life,  "with  a  sort  of  sympathetic  feeling.  I  have  been  as 
wicked  and  vain,  though  not  as  wise  as  he  ;  but  am  now  at 
last  wise  enough  to  feel  and  attest  the  truth  of  his  reflec- 
tions, that  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  This  truth 
is  never  sufficiently  discovered  or  felt  by  mere  speculation ; 
experience  is  necessary  for  conviction,  though  perhaps  at 
the  expense  of  some  morality." 

There  is  still  one  other  part  of  the  recorded  experience 
of  mankind  in  regard  to  the  insufficiency  of  the  substitute 
that  has  been  adopted  to  give  happiness.     I  allude  to  the 


THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOD.  113 

experience  of  the  penitent  and  the  Christian  world. 
Every  man  who  comes  back  to  God,  Uke  the  Prodigal 
Son  returning  to  his  father's  house,  comes  Avith  this  as  an 
important  part  of  his  testimony,  that  in  the  efforts  which 
he  has  made  to  find  happiness  he  has  been  disappointed, 
and  he  now  comes  back  to  the  fountain  of  hving  waters. 
Nor  is  the  number  few,  nor  is  their  testimony  without 
value.  Many  hundreds  of  millions  on  earth  and  in  hea- 
ven now  constitute  the  entire  church  which  has  been  re- 
deemed, and  all  come  with  the  same  language  as  to  the 
power  of  the  world  to  furnish  enjoym.ent.  They  have 
turned  away  from  the  broken  cisterns  and  have  come 
back  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters.  And  who  are  they  ? 
The  poor ;  the  ignorant ;  the  needy ;  the  down-trodden 
you  say ; — they  who  have  had  no  means  of  enjoying  the 
world,  or  of  maknig  a  full  experiment  there.  I  admit  it 
to  a  great  extent — perhaps  to  all  the  extent  you  wish — 
and  would  then  say  in  regard  to  ihevi  that  it  is  no  mean 
honor  for  Christianity  to  have  given  to  the  poor,  and  the 
wretched,  and  the  comfortless,  peace  and  joy.  But  who 
have  come  with  them  to  the  cross  ?  I  see  among  them 
men  with  crowned  heads  laying  the  diadem  at  the  feet  of 
the  Redeemer,  and  exchanging  their  princely  robes  for 
the  garments  of  salvation.  I  see  men  coming  from  the 
halls  of  splendor  and  seeking  for  happiness  in  the  religion 
of  the  Saviour.  I  see  them  come  from  the  circles  of  the 
great,  and  the  gay,  and  the  rich,  from  the  splendid  party, 
the  ball-room,  and  the  theatre,  and  confessing  that  the 
happiness  which  they  sought  was  not  to  be  obtained 
there,  and  seeking  it  now  in  God.  Satisfied  now  that  the 
world  cannot  meet  the  desires  of  the  immortal  mind,  they 
come  back  to  their  Maker,  and  find  permanent  bliss  in  the 
Christian  hope  of  immortality.  A  living  poet  has  beau- 
tifully expressed  the  feelings  of  them  all,  as  they  ap- 
proach the  church,  the  altar,  the  cross. 

People  of  the  living  GoJ, 

I  have  sought  tlie  world  around, 
Paths  of  sin  and  sorrow  trod, 

Peace  and  comfort,  nowhere  found  ; 
Now  to  you  my  spirit  turns. 

Turns,  a  fugitive  unblest ; 
Brethren,  where  your  altar  jjurns, 

O  receive  me  unto  rest ! 
10^ 


114  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Lonely  I  no  longer  roam, 

Like  the  cloud,  the  wind,  the  wave ; 
Where  you  dwell  shall  be  my  home, 

Where  you  die  shall  be  my  grave; 
Mine  the  God  whom  you  adore — 

Your  Redeemer  shall  be  mine  ; 
Earth  can  fill  my  heart  no  more, 

Every  idol  I  resign.  Montgomery, 

And  what  has  been  the  result  ?  Have  the  returning 
wanderers  been  satisfied  ?  Have  they  found  that  which 
they  sought,  in  the  fountain  of  Uving  waters  ?  Hear  one 
of  them  speak  who  gives  utterance  to  the  sentiments  of 
them  all.  "  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the-  water  brooks 
so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  0  God,  my  soul  thirsteth 
for  God,  for  the  living  God."  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven 
but  thee,  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside 
thee.  My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth,  but  God  is  the 
strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  forever."  "  As  for 
me,  I  will  behold  thy  face  in  righteousness :  I  shall  be 
satisfied  when  I  awake  in  thy  likeness."  God,  to  such  a 
man,  becomes  the  portion  of  the  soul.  In  his  existence, 
perfections,  government,  plans,  works ;  in  his  promises, 
and  in  his  communications  to  the  soul  that  loves  him,  and 
in  the  hope  of  dwelling  with  him,  the  weary  heart  finds 
peace,  and  the  burdened  spirit  rest.  From  the  fountain 
of  living  waters  the  returning  wanderer  drinks  and  thirsts 
no  more.  It  is  pure,  elevating,  inexhaustible.  Like  a 
perennial  fountain  it  fails  not  by  years,  it  is  not  exhausted 
by  the  numbers  that  partake  of  it.  It  does  not  tire  in  the 
enjoyment ;  it  does  not  leave  the  soul  in  sickness ;  it  does 
not  forsake  it  in  death.  That  happiness  goes  with  us  to 
all  lands  and  to  all  worlds,  and  becomes  brighter  and 
purer  as  earthly  joys  fade  away  and  as  the  hour  ap- 
proaches when  we  must  leave  the  world.  None  have 
come  to  God  and  been  disappointed  ;  none  who  have  truly 
tasted  his  love  have  had  again  a  supreme  relish  for  the 
joys  of  sense  and  of  sin. 

I  said  that  a  part  of  the  experience  of  this  world  in  re- 
ference to  the  happiness  which  is  sought  away  from  God, 
is  unrecorded.  I  refer  to  that  as  yet  unwritten  volume 
where  would  be  recorded  all  the  sad  disappointments,  the 
cares,  the  anxieties,  and  the  sorrows  of  those  who  are 
seeking  happiness  in  the  world.     I  mean  the  corroding 


THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOD.  115 

envy,  and  jealousy,  and  chagrin,  and  inward  vexation 
which  may  enter  the  most  splendid  circle,  and  which  may 
hve  there  despite  all  that  is  gay  and  winning.  In  that 
brilliant  world  all  may  seem  to  be  smiles  and  blandish- 
ments ;  on  the  pillow  where  the  aching  head  shall  rest, 
the  eyes  may  give  vent  to  tears  at  disappointment,  or  the 
heart  be  swollen  by  envy  and  chagrin,  for  which  tears 
would  afford  no  relief.  Madame  Malibran,  the  most  ce- 
lebrated opera  singer  of  her  age,  returning  home  from  a 
grand  aristocratic  party,  where  all  had  striven  to  over- 
whelm her  with  admiration,  burst  into  tears,  knowing 
that  after  all  she  was  "  a  mere  opera-singer,^'  Alexan- 
der wept  on  the  throne  of  the  world.  Charles  V.  and 
Dioclesian  descended  from  the  throne  to  seek  that  happi- 
ness in  the  vale  of  private  life,  which  could  never  be 
found  in  the  robes  of  royalty.  Goethe,  the  celebrated 
German  author,  said  of  himself  in  advanced  age,  "  They 
have  called  me  a  child  of  fortune,  nor  have  I  any 
wish  to  complain  of  the  course  of  my  life.  Yet  it  has 
been  nothing  but  labor  and  sorrow,  and  I  may  truly  say 
that  in  seventy-five  years,  I  have  not  had  four  weeks  of 
true  comfort.  It  was  the  constant  rolling  of  a  stone  that 
was  always  to  be  lifted  anew."  Who  shall  record  the 
disappointment  of  those  who  seek  wealth  as  their  portion  ? 
Who  shall  gather  up  and  write  down  the  names  of  the 
young  men — numerous  as  mighty  armies — who  have 
sought  fame,  and  been  disappointed?  Who  shall  give 
utterance  to  the  unrecorded  sighs  that  bespoke  the  fail- 
ures in  the  pursuit  of  happiness  in  the  gay  assembly  ? — 
The  most  instructive  part  of  the  history  of  our  world  is 
unwritten — at  least  is  not  written  among  mortals.  It  is 
recorded  in  the  book  that  preserves  the  memory  of  human 
deeds  with  reference  to  the  judgment,  and  will  be  deve- 
loped only  on  the  final  trial.  It  is  the  record  of  number- 
less individual  failures  and  disappointments ;  the  total 
history  of  that  which  makes  up  the  vast  experiment  in 
our  world  to  find  enjoyment  without  the  friendship  of  the 
Most  High ;  the  record  of  what  has  resulted  to  men  for 
having  forsaken  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  for 
having  hewed  out  to  themselves  cisterns,  broken  cisterns 
that  can  hold  no  water. 

Wandering  sinner,  permit  me  to  say  to  you  in  conclu- 


116  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

sion,  you  can  never  be  happy  without  God.  You  are 
destined  to  be  a  miserable  man  while  you  wander  away 
from  him — as  the  Prodigal  Son  was  wretched  who  had 
left  his  father's  home.  Nor  wealth,  nor  books,  nor  busi- 
ness, nor  games,  nor  the  dance,  nor  eating,  nor  drinking, 
nor  a  splendid  dwelling,  nor  a  brilliant  reputation,  nor  all 
that  you  can  do  to  secure  a  grateful  remembrance  after 
you  are  dead,  can  be  a  substitute  for  the  happiness  that 
is  to  be  found  in  God.  You  may  be  false  to  your  Maker, 
but  the  world  will  be  true  to  the  God  that  made  it.  It 
will  not  impart  happiness  except  Avhen  he  bids  it.  True 
is  that  world  to  its  God — the  earth,  the  air,  the  sea,  the 
silver,  and  the  gold.  Not  one  of  them  will  give  peace 
except  when  he  commands,  and  all  of  them  he  can  make 
a  curse  to  your  soul.  There  is  no  substitute  for  the  bliss 
which  he  alone  can  give ;  and  though  you  may  pervert 
your  own  powers,  yet  you  can  never  so  torture  and  per- 
vert the  works  of  the  Almighty  eis  to  make  them  confer 
permanent  enjoyment  except  Avhen  he  commands. 

Wandering  sinner,  learn  from  our  subject  the  benevo- 
lent design  of  the  plan  of  redemption.  It  is  to  bring  back 
an  alienated  and  wretched  race  to  the  fountain  of  living 
waters.  It  comes  to  us  on  the  presumption  that  man  7nust 
be  miserable  as  long  as  he  continues  to  wander  away 
from  his  Maker.  From  the  broken  cistern  which  can  hold 
no  water,  it  would  re-conduct  the  race  back  to  God,  and 
restore  the  bliss  of  Eden.  0  happy  if  man  had  never  wan- 
dered away,  and  happy  still  if  he  would  return.  Not  one 
favor  would  be  denied  by  him  who  has  had  so  just  cause 
to  be  offended ;  not  one  frown  would  the  sinner  find  on 
the  brow  of  the  Almighty ;  not  one  expression  of  kind- 
ness would  be  withheld  if  he  w^ould  return.  The  same 
heaven  might  be  his  abode  as  if  he  had  never  sinned, 
and  the  bliss  of  even  God's  eternal  favor  may  be  height- 
ened to  the  returning  sinner  by  all  there  is  in  thank- 
fulness for  redemption,  and  in  returning  joy  after  many 
sorrows. 

Wandering  sinner,  I  call  on  you  to  return  to  your  long 
forgotten  God — the  fountain  of  living  waters.  In  view 
of  the  experience  of  the  world ;  in  view  of  its  recorded 
woes  in  every  face  of  care,  in  every  sick  bed,  in  every 
grave,  as  the  result  of  wandering  away  from  God;  and  in 


THE    MISERY    OF    FORSAKING    GOD.  117 

view  of  the  unrecorded  ills  of  forsaking  him,  I  call  on  you 
to  come  back.  Sufficient  has  been  the  sad  experience  of 
the  world  to  satisfy  you  that  in  those  wanderings  happi- 
ness never  can  be  found.  Let  the  experience  of  the 
world — dear  bought  in  millions  of  instances — lead  you  to 
return.  Come  back,  unhappy  wanderer,  come  back : 
come  to  the  ever-living  fountain  of  bliss ;  come  and  par- 
take of  the  happiness  that  never  deceives,  and  that  never 
fails.  From  the  parched  and  desolate  land  where  you 
have  gone,  come  back  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters. 
Yes,  come  to  the  fountain  of  living  waters ;  for  the  Spirit 
and  the  bride  say  come,  and  whosoever  will  let  him  take 
the  water  of  life  freely. 


SERMON  VIII. 

GOD    IS    WORTHY    OF    CONFIDENCE. 
Job  xxii.  21.     Acquaint  now  thyself  with  him,  and  be  at  peace. 

That  is,  with  God.  The  case  to  which  the  text  refers 
■was  this.  Eliphaz — who  addresses  these  words  to  Job — 
supposed  that  he  was  wholly  a  stranger  to  the  true  God  ; 
that  he  had  altogether  erroneous  views  of  his  govern- 
ment ;  that  he  regarded  him  as  harsh  and  severe  in  his 
administration,  and  as  unworthy  of  confidence.  In  his 
sutferings,  Job  had  at  some  times  indulged  in  remarks  of 
considerable  severity  on  the  divine  dealings.  This  Avas 
by  no  means  the  prevailing  character  of  the  man ;  but  it 
was  so  interpreted  by  his  friends,  and  Eliphaz  now  de- 
signs to  assure  him  that  he  could  never  find  peace  until 
he  should  become  more  acquainted  with  the  divine  cha- 
racter, and  should  feel  that  God  was  worthy  of  confi- 
dence. He  proceeds,  therefore,  in  a  most  beautiful  manner 
to  exhort  him  to  be  reconciled  to  God,  and  portrays  the 
benefits  which  would  result  from  such  reconciliation. 
The  meaning  is,  'Become  truly  acquainted  with  the 
character  and  government  of  God.  You  have  noAV  no 
just  views  of  him.  You  regard  him  as  harsh,  severe, 
tyrannical.  You  murmur,  and  complain,  and  are  wretch- 
ed. Estranged  from  him,  you  must  be  miserable.  But 
it  is  not  too  late  to  repent  and  return  to  him ;  and  in  so 
doing  you  will  find  peace.'  Eliphaz — however  impro- 
perly he  applied  this  to  Job — has  here  stated  a  doctrine 
which  has  been  confirmed  by  all  the  subsequent  revela- 
tions in  the  Bible,  and  by  all  experience,  that  happiness 
follows  reconciliation  with  God,  and  that  true  peace  is 
found  only  there.  This  doctrine  must  have  been  under- 
stood as  early  as  religion  was  knov/n  after  the  fall.  Man 
became  alienated  from  God  by  the  apostasy,  and  conse- 
quently miserable;  and  peace  was  to  be  found  again 
only  by  reconciliation  with  him. 

There  are  two  great  difficulties  in  the  minds  of  men. 
The  one  is,  they  have  no  just  views  of  the  character  and 


GOD    IS    WORTHY    OF    CONFIDENCE.  119 

government  of  God ;  and  the  second  is,  if  his  true  cha- 
racter is  made  known  to  them,  they  have  no  pleasure  in 
it — no  confidence  in  it.  Both  these  difficulties  must  be 
removed  before  man  can  be  reconciled  to  his  Maker.  Iso 
small  part  of  the  difficulty  will  be  removed  if  we  can 
show  him  that  the  character  of  God  is  such  as  to  deserve 
his  confidence.  To  that  task  I  now  proceed,  and  shall 
arrange  my  thoughts  under  three  heads : — 

I.  The  liability  to  error  on  our  part  in  judging  of  the 
character  and  government  of  God  ; 

II.  The  real  difficulties  in  the  case  ;  and 

III.  The  evidence  that  he  is  worthy  of  our  confidence. 
I  would  not  attempt  an  argument  of  this  nature,  were 

It  not  that  I  believe  that  the  great  difficulty  with  men  is, 
that  they  have  no  confidence  in.  God.  This  is  the  source 
of  all  our  woes.  Man  does  not  believe  that  the  God  of 
the  Bible  is  worthy  to  be  the  Sovereign  of  the  universe  ; 
that  his  government  is  equal ;  and  that  the  terms  of  his 
favors  are  the  best  that  could  be.  He  confides  in  his  own 
understanding  rather  than  in  God ;  forms  his  own  plan 
of  religion  rather  than  embrace  the  one  Avhich  God  has 
revealed ;  and  relies  on  his  own  merits  for  salvation  ra- 
ther than  on  the  merits  of  him  whom  God  has  sent.  He 
goes  not  to  him  in  perplexity ;  asks  not  his  support  in 
sickness ;  relies  not  on  him  in  the  hour  of  death.  The 
great  evil  in  this  world  is  a  want  of  confidence  in  God ; 
— a  want  of  confidence  producing  the  same  disasters 
there  which  it  does  in  a  commercial  community,  and  in 
the  relations  of  domestic  life.  The  great  thing  needful 
to  make  this  a  happy  world  is  to  restore  confidence  in 
the  Creator — confidence,  the  great  restorer  of  happiness 
every  where. 

Now,  men  can  never  be  reconciled  to  God  unless  this 
confidence  shall  be  restored.  You  and  your  neighbor 
are  at  variance.  The  dispute  has  been  bitter  and  long. 
There  has  been  a  misunderstanding,  and  dissatisfaction, 
and  a  lawsuit,  and  a  long  strife  resulting  in  a  confirmed 
alienation.  Now,  suppose,  in  this  difficulty,  you  are 
wholly  right,  and  your  neighbor  wholly  wrong.  You 
have  really  done  him  no  injury.  You  have  not  been  un- 
willing to  be  on  terms  of  friendship  with  him.  But  a 
long  train  of  circumstances,  which  you  could  not  have 


120  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

well  controlled,  has  operated  to  make  him  misunderstand 
your  character,  or  suspect  your  motives.  Evil  minded 
men  have  for  their  own  ends  misrepresented  you.  They 
have  reported  to  him  things  which  you  have  not  said, 
and  they  have  magnified  trifles  until  they  seem  to  be 
mountains.  Affairs  have  come  to  such  a  state,  that  he 
has  no  confidence  in  you,  and  believes  your  character  to 
be  wholly  unworthy  of  respect.  Now  what  is  to  be  done 
in  the  case  to  bring  about  reconciliation  ?  Not  that  you 
are  to  change  your  character.  Not  that  you  are  to  make 
acknowledgments  where  no  wrong  has  been  done.  It 
is  to  restore  to  his  mind  just  confidence  iii  yourself- — 
to  explain  matters ;  to  show  him  what  you  are ;  to  undo 
the  evils  which  busy-bodies  have  done  in  giving  him  a 
wrong  impression  of  you  ; — and  if,  back  of  all  this,  he 
has  had  hard  thoughts  of  you  without  the  show  of  rea- 
son, and  simply  because  he  does  not  like  a  character  of 
honesty  and  truth,  he  is  to  lay  all  that  aside.  Then  peace 
would  be  restored.  This  is  what  is  to  be  done  in  reli- 
gion. It  is  to  convince  men  that  God  is  worthy  of  con- 
fidence ; — and  that  all  that  has  been  said  by  infidels,  and 
sceptics,  and  scoffers  against  him,  is  unjust  and  wrong  ; 
and  then,  if  back  of  all  these  false  representations  of  the 
character  of  God,  you  have  been  cherishing  any  feelings 
hostile  to  his  real  character,  to  entreat  you  to  lay  them 
aside.  This  would  be  reconciliation. — And  why  should 
a  man  wish  to  cherish  any  hard  thoughts  of  God  without 
the  shadow  of  reason — hating  him  from  the  pure  love 
OF  hating  him  ? 

in  the  case  of  the  two  individuals  referred  to,  it  will 
easily  be  seen  that  the  one  who  supposed  he  was  injured, 
would  be  liable  to  form  very  erroneous  estimates  of  the 
character  of  the  other.  A  man  is  not  in  very  favorable 
circumstances  for  estimating  character  when  he  is  en- 
gaged in  a  quarrel,  nor  is  he  then  very  likely  to  do  jus- 
tice to  the  motives  and  the  actions  of  his  neighbor.  A 
thousand  things  are  concerned  in  forming  our  judgments, 
against  which  we  should,  in  such  circumstances,  guard 
ourselves.  Now,  how  is  it  in  our  estimate  of  the  cha- 
racter of  God  ?  Are  we  in  no  danger  of  being  influenced 
by  improper  feelings  ?  This  is  the  point  before  us.  It 
does  not  require  long  consideration,  and  I  shall  therefore 


GOD  IS  WORTHY  OF  CONFIDENCE.  121 

just  refer  to  four  sources  of  danger  on  this  point  which  I 
think  any  careful  observer  will  find  in  his  own  mind. 

(1.)  The  first  is,  that  we  are  in  danger  of  being  go- 
verned in  our  views  of  God  by  mexQ  feeling,  rather  than 
by  sober  judgment  and  calm  investigation.  We  must 
all  have  been  sensible  of  this  in  our  differences  with 
others,  and  cannot  have  forgotten  how  our  feelings  mag- 
nified trifles,  refused  explanations,  imputed  wrong  mo- 
tives, and  gave  a  coloring  to  the  whole  transaction.  We 
can  remember  how  little  weight  at  that  time  the  declara- 
tion of  the  man  himself  from  whom  we  were  estranged, 
had  on  our  mind,  and  how  little  credit  we  gave  to  what 
we  deemed  the  partial  and  one-sided  representations  of 
his  friends.  There  is  danger  that  the  same  thing  will 
happen  in  regard  to  God.  The  views  of  most  men  on 
the  subject  of  religion  are  drawn  from  their  feelings. 
How  few  are  they  who  sit  down  to  a  calm  investigation 
to  ascertain  what  in  fact  is  the  character  and  government 
of  God !  How  few  of  those  who  speculatively  profess  to 
believe  the  Bible,  sit  down  patiently  to  ascertain  what  it 
teaches  on  that  point !  How  many  there  are  who  are 
drawn  along  by  their  own  reflections  and  feelings  into 
the  views  which  they  now  entertain  of  God,  or  who  have 
been  led  to  form  their  present  views  by  a  remark  of  some 
man  who  is  an  infidel  or  a  scoffer  ! 

(2.)  A  second  source  of  liability  to  error  is,  that  we 
are  often  in  circumstances  where  we  are  in  danger  of 
cherishing  hard  thoughts  of  God.  He  takes  away  our 
property,  or  our  health,  or  our  friends  ;  he  frustrates  our 
plans,  hedges  up  our  way,  throws  embarrassments  in  our 
course,  and  does  this,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  without  rea- 
son or  necessity.  Now,  no  man  is  in  the  best  situation 
to  judge  candidly,  or  to  form  a  favorable  opinion  of  the 
divine  character,  in  such  circumstances.  The  tendency 
is  to  make  us  feel  that  his  government  is  severe  and  arbi- 
trary. Suppose  a  case  between  two  neighbors  where  a 
difference  existed.  Would  you  be  in  a  situation  to  judge 
favorably  of  the  character  of  your  neighbor,  should  he 
be  doing  constantly  what  you  thought  to  be  injury  to 
you  without  reason  ?  I  know  this  case  is  not  quite  paral- 
lel, but  it  may  illustrate  what  I  mean.  This  was  the 
case  with  Job.     He  had  suffered  much ;  and  many  of  his 

11 


122  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

remarks — full  of  complaint  and  murmuring — show  the 
effect  of  this  condition  on  his  mind  in  unfitting  him  to 
come  to  such  conclusions  as  should  lead  him  to  confide 
in  God. 

(3.)  A  third  source  of  liability  to  error  in  judging  of 
the  character  of  God  is,  that  we  always  regard  ourselves 
as  the  aggrieved  and  injured  party.  We  do  not  allow 
ourselves  to  suppose  it  possible  that  God  should  be  right 
and  we  wrong ;  but  whatever  injury  is  done,  we  allow 
ourselves  to  suppose  has  been  done  by  him.  If  God 
treats  us  as  if  we  were  great  sinners,  we  do  not  allow 
ourselves  for  a  moment  to  suppose  that  we  are  such,  but 
instantly  revert  to  our  ideas  of  our  own  morality  and  in- 
tegrity ;  if  he  threatens  to  punish  us  forever  in  hell,  we 
do  not  allow  ourselves  for  a  moment  to  suppose  that  we 
deserve  such  a  treatment,  but  regard  it  at  once  as  proof 
that  he  is  arbitrary  and  stern ;  and  while  this  is  the  case, 
how  is  it  possible  for  a  man  to  put  confidence  in  God,  or 
to  feel  that  he  ought  to  be  reconciled  to  him  ?  His  oppo- 
sition he  regards  as  in  no  small  degree  meritorious  ;  and 
he  feels  that  he  would  be  wanting  in  self-respect  to  cherish 
any  other  views  of  his  Maker  than  he  actually  does. 

(4.)  A  fourth  source  of  liability  to  error,  or  to  a  want 
of  confidence  in  God,  lies  back  of  all  this.  It  is  not 
merely  that  we  do  not  understand  his  true  character,  but 
it  is  that  we  are  not  pleased  with  that  character  when  it 
is  understood.  We  have  by  nature  no  pleasure  in  God. 
He  is  too  holy,  too  just,  too  pure,  too  true,  to  satisfy 
creatures  such  as  we  are ;  and  there  is  no  fact  better  es- 
tablished in  the  history  of  man,  account  for  it  as  you 
may,  and  draw  what  inferences  from  it  you  choose,  than 
that  man  by  nature  has  a  strong  opposition  to  the  charac- 
ter of  God,  even  when  that  character  is  understood.  He 
does  not  like  to  retain  him  in  his  knowledge.  He  loves 
sin  too  much,  and  hates  restraint,  and  desires  his  own 
gratification,  and  has  no  sympathy  with  the  divine  per- 
fections and  attributes.  Now,  with  this  state  of  mind, 
he  looks  on  God  and  all  that  he  does,  through  a  distorted 
medium,  and  is  constantly  seeking  some  ground  of  accu- 
sation ;  something  that  shall  to  him  answer  the  purpose 
of  self-defence. 

These  are  some  of  the  liabilities  to  error  in  judging  of 


GOD    IS    VVORTHTf    OP    CONFIDENCE.  123 

the  divine  character,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  views 
which  not  a  few  have  of  God,  have  been  formed  under 
some  such  feehngs  as  these.  It  is  evident,  however,  at  a 
glance,  that  all  the  views  of  the  divine  character  which 
are  formed  under  influences  like  these  are  likely  to  be 
wrong,  and  should  constitute  no  real  difficulty  in  the 
question  whether  we  shall  put  confidence  in  him.  I  pro- 
ceed, therefore, 

II.  To  the  second  general  point  of  enquiry — the  real 
difficulties  in  the  case.  I  mean  where  a  man  has  no  pre- 
judice ;  no  embittered  feeling ;  no  cherished  opposition  : 
where  he  is  not  suffering  under  any  ill  in  such  a  way  as 
to  sour  his  mind  or  pervert  his  understanding,  and  where 
he  would  ivish  to  see  such  evidence  that  he  may  put  un- 
wavering confidence  in  God. 

I  think  it  is  to  be  admitted  that  such  a  man  may  have 
great  difficulties.  There  are  many  things  which  he  can- 
not understand.  There  are  many  things  which  he  can- 
not reconcile  with  such  a  view.  Briefly,  for  this  is  a 
point  on  which  we  ought  not  long  to  dwell,  such  a  man 
will  advert  to  such  facts  as  the  following,  viz  : 

That  sin  should  have  been  allowed  to  come  into  the 
system  formed  by  a  holy  God.  That  since  he  had  power 
to  create  or  not,  as  he  chose,  and  since  worlds  have  been 
made  that  were  holy,  and  are  still  holy,  that  all  should 
not  have  been  made  so.  That  misery  has  come  into  the 
universe,  and  that  death,  with  many  forms  of  wo,  has 
been  commissioned  to  cut  down  one  whole  race,  and  that, 
in  doing  it,  the  whole  earth  is  strewed  with  hospitals, 
and  sick-beds,  and  graves.  That  the  immortal  mind 
should  be  allowed  to  jeopard  its  infinite  welfare,  and 
that  trifles  should  be  allowed  to  draw  it  away  from 
God,  and  virtue,  and  heaven.  That  any  should  suffer 
forever— lingering  on  in  hopeless  despair,  and  rolling 
amidst  infinite  torments  without  the  possibility  of  alle- 
viation, and  without  end.  That  since  God  can  save 
men,  and  will  save  a  part,  he  has  not  purposed  to 
save  all ;  that  on  the  supposition  that  the  atonement  is 
ample,  and  that  the  blood  of  Christ  can  cleanse  from  all 
and  every  sin,  it  is  not  in  fact  applied  to  all.  That,  in  a 
word,  a  God  who  claims  to  be  worthy  of  the  confidence 
of  the  universe,  and  to  be  a  being  of  infinite  benevo- 


124  TRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

lence,  should  make  such  a  world  as  this — full  of  sinners 
and  sufferers;  and  that  when  an  atonement  had  been 
made,  he  did  not  save  all  the  race,  and  put  an  end  to  sin 
and  wo  forever. 

These,  and  kindred  difficulties,  meet  the  mind  when 
we  think  on  this  great  subject ;  and  they  meet  us  when 
we  endeavor  to  urge  our  fellow-sinners  to  be  reconciled 
to  God,  and  to  put  confidence  in  him.  On  this  ground 
they  hesitate.  These  are  real,  not  imaginary  difficulties. 
They  are  probably  felt  by  every  mind  that  ever  reflected 
on  the  subject — and  they  are  unexplained,  unmitigated, 
unremoved.  I  confess,  for  one,  that  I  feel  them,  and  feel 
them  more  sensibly  and  powerfully  the  more  I  look  at 
them,  and  the  longer  I  live.  I  do  not  understand  these 
facts ;  and  I  make  no  advances  towards  understanding 
them.  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  a  ray  of  light  on  this 
subject  which  I  had  not  when  the  subject  first  flashed 
across  my  soul.  I  have  read,  to  some  extent,  what  wise 
and  good  men  have  written.  I  have  looked  at  their  va- 
rious theories  and  explanations.  I  have  endeavored  to 
weigh  their  arguments — ^for  my  whole  soul  pants  for 
light  and  relief  on  these  questions.  But  I  get  neither ; 
and  in  the  distress  and  anguish  of  my  own  spirit,  I  con- 
fess that  I  see  no  light  Avhatever.  I  see  not  one  ray  to 
disclose  to  me  .the  reason  why  sin  came  into  the  world; 
why  the  earth  is  strewed  with  the  dying  and  the  dead, 
and  why  man  must  suffer  to  all  eternity.  I  have  never 
seen  a  particle  of  light  thrown  on  these  subjects  that 
has  given  a  moment's  ease  to  my  tortured  mind ;  nor 
have  I  an  explanation  to  otfer,  or  a  thought  to  sug- 
gest, which  would  be  a  relief  to  you.  I  trust  other 
men — as  they  profess  to  do — understand  this  better  than 
I  do,  and  that  they  have  not  the  anguish  of  spirit  which 
I  have  ;  but  I  confess,  when  I  look  on  a  world  of  sinners 
and  of  sufterers ;  upon  death-beds  and  grave-yards ;  upon 
the  world  of  wo  filled  with  hosts  to  suffer  forever  ; — 
when  I  see  my  friends,  my  parents,  my  family,  my  peo- 
ple, my  fellow-citizens — when  I  look  upon  a  whole  race, 
all  involved  in  this  sin  and  danger,  and  when  I  see  the 
great  mass  of  them  wholly  unconcerned,  and  Avhen  I  feel 
that  God  only  can  save  them   and  yet  that  he  does  not 


GOD    IS    WORTHY    OF    CONFIDENCE.  125 

do  it,  I  am  struck  dumb.  It  is  all  dark — dark — dark  to 
my  soul — and  I  cannot  disguise  it. 

Yet  even  here,  in  the  midst  of  this  gloom,  I  cast  about 
my  eyes  to  see  if  I  can  find  no  evidence  that  God  is 
worthy  of  my  confidence ;  no  evidence  that  though  "  clouds 
and  darkness  are  round  about  him,  righteousness  and 
judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne.''  Is  there  no- 
thing on  which  my  soul  may  rest,  and  of  which  I  may 
speak  to  my  fellow-men,  when  their  minds  are  involved 
in  the  same  perplexity  ?  And  when  I  come  to  them  as 
the  ambassador  of  God,  and  ask  them  to  be  reconciled, 
is  there  nothing  which  I  can  say  to  convince  them  that 
God  is  worthy  of  that  confidence,  and  to  satisfy  them 
that  in  all  this  gloom  they  may  repose  on  their  Creator  ? 
I  have  found  for  myself  a  rock  in  this  heaving  ocean ;  a 
star  on  which  the  eye  may  be  fixed  in  the  dark  night.  I 
proceed, 

III.  In  the  third  place  to  state,  in  the  briefest  manner 
possible,  the  process  of  my  own  reflections  on  this  point, 
or  the  reasons  why  confidence  should  be  placed  in  him, 
and  why  men  should  be  exhorted  to  become  acquainted 
with  him,  and  be  at  peace. 

My  faith  rests  mainly  on  God's  own  word  ;  on  the 
testimony  of  himself  in  regard  to  his  real  character  and 
plans  ;  on  the  assurances  which  I  find  there,  that,  not- 
withstanding all  the  difficulties  in  the  case,  he  is  holy, 
true,  just,  good,  and  worthy  of  universal  love  and  confi- 
dence. It  is  the  assurance  of  him  who  knows  his  own 
character,  and  who  declares  most  solemnly  that  all  that  he 
does  is  consistent  with  the  rules  of  eternal  equity  and  right. 
He  has  given  what  I  believe  to  be  a  revelation  of  his 
character,  and  has  made  such  declarations  respecting  it 
as  to  claim  the  confidence  of  mankind.  Here  my  mind 
rests.  Conscious  of  my  liability  to  err;  knowing  how 
short-sighted  I  am ;  feeling  that  man  must  be  incompe- 
tent to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  government  and  plans  of 
God  ;  and  knowing  that  there  iiiay  be  developments  3'et 
that  shall  make  all  that  is  now  dark,  clear ;  all  that  is  ob- 
scure, light,  I  put  my  trust  in  his  assurances,  and  the 
mind  finds  repose. 

But  I  find  also  in  his  government,  as  it  is  actually  ad- 
ministered, not  a  little  to  confirm  this  confidence,  and  to 

11^ 


126  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

calm  the  distresses  of  the  soul ;  not  a  little  that  I  think 
may  be  so  stated  as  to  show  to  men  that  he  is  worthy  of 
their  confidence.  I  shall  state  some  of  these  things  now, 
in  the  conclusion  of  this  discourse.  It  can  be  merely, 
however,  to  glance  at  thoughts  which  should  be  expand- 
ed to  much  greater  length.     They  are  such  as  these  : — 

(1.)  The  government  of  God  is  one  of  law — always 
presumptive  proof  that  a  government  is  worthy  of  con- 
fidence. It  is  not  a  government  of  mere  will,  or  caprice ; 
not  a  government  of  passion,  and  therefore  not  one  of 
arbitrary  tyranny.  Where  there  is  law  which  is  known, 
and  which  is  rigidly  adhered  to,  there  may  be  confidence. 
It  shows  that  the  sovereign  has  confidence  himself  in  his 
own  principles ;  that  he  is  willing  that  they  should  be 
known ;  that  he  does  not  mean  to  be  governed  by  ca- 
price. He  publishes  his  principles  of  administration,  and 
submits  them  to  the  world ;  and  in  such  a  fact  there  is 
proof  that  there  is  stability.  A  mob  is  governed  by  no 
law  ;  a  tyrant  is  controlled  by  no  principle  but  his  will ; 
or  if  laws  are  proclaimed,  they  are  proclaimed  only  to  be 
set  aside  by  caprice.  But  it  is  not  so  with  God.  His  is 
a  government  of  law,  and  has  been  from  the  beginning. 
We  know  what  he  requires;  we  know  what  he  will  do 
in  given  circumstances.  Those  laws  are  not  set  aside 
by  will ;  they  are  not  disregarded  by  caprice  or  passion. 
In  such  a  government  there  is  presumptive  ground,  at 
least,  for  confidence. 

(2.)  That  government  is  stable  and  firm.  What  it  is 
in  one  place  it  is  in  another.  What  he  requires  of  one 
he  requires  of  all ;  what  he  forbids  in  one  place  he  does 
every  where.  What  he  prohibits  in  heaven,  he  does  on 
earth  and  in  hell ;  what  he  approves  in  heaven,  he  ap- 
proves in  all  worlds.  What  in  one  generation  he  ap- 
proves or  forbids,  he  approves  or  forbids  in  all ;  what  in 
one  complexion  or  climate,  he  does  every  where.  Virtue 
that  he  rewards  in  one  age,  he  rewards  in  all ;  and  vice 
that  he  punishes  in  one  clime,  he  punishes  every  where. 
The  deed  that  excites  his  displeasure  beneath  rags,  ex- 
cites his  displeasure  beneath  the  purple ;  and  the  victim 
that  he  smiles  upon  on  the  throne,  pleases  him  not  less  in 
the  cottage.  The  light  which  comes  to  our  eye  from  the 
sun,  is  governed  by  the  same  laws  as  the  light  which  is 


GOD    IS    WORTHY    OF    CONFIDE^-CE.  127 

borne  from  the  remotest  star ;  and  the  same  laws  apply  to 
water  on  the  rose-bud  and  m  the  dew-drop  which  control 
it  hi  the  deep  ocean.  We  know,  therefore,  what  to  ex- 
pect. We  see  a  government  that  is  settled  and  firm ;  and 
such  a  government  has  at  least  some  of  the  elements  to 
produce  confidence. 

(3.)  All  the  operations  of  his  government,  and  all  his 
laws,  tend  to  promote  the  welfare  of  his  subjects.  None 
are  originally  designed  to  produce  misery;  none  do  pro- 
duce misery  except  when  violated.  There  are,  for  ex- 
ample, certain  laws  pertaining  to  health.  They  require 
temperance,  purity,  industry,  absence  from  exciting  and 
violent  passions.  All  these  laws  tend  to  the  welfare  of 
the  individual,  and  if  obeyed,  injure  no  one.  There  are 
certain  laws  pertaining  to  the  acquisition  of  property. 
These  laws,  if  obeyed,  injure  no  one,  but  would  promote 
the  welfare  of  all.  These  are  laws  requiring  truth,  ho- 
nesty, temperance,  chastity,  love,  kindness,  charity.  None 
are  uijured  by  their  observance.  None  ever  have  been. 
None  ever  will  be.  It  is  a  matter  of  the  clearest  demon- 
stration, that  if  all  those  laws  had  been  observed  in  the 
exact  sense  of  their  requirements  from  the  creation  of  the 
universe,  no  one  would  have  been  injured  by  them  ;  and 
you  cannot  find  one  of  the  laws  of  his  kingdom  whose 
observance  would  not  have  been  attended  with  benefit, 
or  where  its  violation  has  not  been  an  injury  sooner  or 
later.  This  is  so  clear  that  it  needs  no  argument ;  and  is 
not  such  a  government  worthy  of  confidence  ?  Has  it  not 
a  claim  on  the  love  and  obedience  of  those  who  are  its 
subjects  ?  To  see  the  full  force  of  this,  you  have  only  to 
remember  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  God  to  have  made 
laws  directly  the  reverse,  and  to  have  so  ordained  them 
that  the  observance  of  each  one  would  have  been  fol- 
lowed with  a  sigh  or  a  groan.  When  I  suffer,  therefore, 
and  when,  under  the  influence  of  suffering,  I  am  disposed 
to  complain  of  God,  let  me  remember  that  that  suffering 
is  somehow  connected  with  the  violation  of  law,  and  that 
the  Creator  has  ordained  no  law,  in  the  exact  observ- 
ance of  which  such  misery  would  have  followed.  In 
such  a  God,  and  hi  such  a  government,  can  we  see  no 
reasons  for  confidence  ? 

(4.)  I  look  a  step  farther.     I  see  a  great  number  of 


128  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

arrangements  designed  to  meet  the  evils  which  have  in 
fact  grown  up  in  the  system — evils  in  all  cases  the  result 
of  some  violated  law.     I  know  the  great  difficulty  lies 
just  here,  and  you  will  ask  me  why  those  evils  were 
allowed  to  come  into  the  system  ?    Why  were  they  not 
prevented  ?  This  is  the  gordion  knot  which  we  can  neither 
cut  nor  untie.     I  answer  frankly  that  I  do  not  know.     I 
have  not  one  ray  of  light  to  shed  here.     I  am  involved 
in  deep  midnight,  as  I  believe  all  mankind  are  ;  and  I 
see  not  that  one  explanation  has  ever  been  offered  that 
has  helped  the  matter  in  the  least.     But  when  the  evil 
has  entered  the  system,  what  is  the  conduct  of  the  sove- 
reign then  ?    Has  he  suffered  it  to  go  on  unheeded,  unre- 
buked,  and  with  no  effort  to  arrest  it?    Are  there  no 
devices,  no  contrivances  to  stay  the  evil,  and  ultimately 
to  remove  it  ?  If  the  original  law  were  good,  he  would  be 
under  no  obligation  to  interpose  to  arrest  the  evil  resulting 
from  its  violation ;  but  if  he  did  interpose,  it  would  be  so 
much  proof  standing  out  by  itself  that  he  was  worthy  the 
confidence  of  the  sufferers.  This,  then,  introduces  us  into 
a  new  department  of  the  divine  administration,  and  a 
department  that  extends  as  far  as  we  are  concerned  with 
evil  and  wo.     It  is  the  department  of  remedies  for  the 
evils  of  the  violated  system ; — a  remedial  arrangement 
designed  to  anticipate  the  coming  evil,  and  to  prevent  its 
being  finally  and  wlioUy  destructive.  Such  are  the  reme- 
dies in  the  case  of  disease  designed  to  meet  and  mitigate 
it,  or  to  remove  it ;  and  such  is  the  great  remedy  for  all 
the  maladies  of  men  in  the  atonement.     It  is  almost  sus- 
ceptible now  of  demonstration,  and  the  proof  is  increasing 
every  year — that  there  is  not  a  form  of  disease  to  which 
the  human  system  is  liable  for  which  some  salutary  re- 
medy has  not  been  provided ;  it  is  capable  of  complete 
demonstration  that  there  is  not  an  evil  of  any  kind  which 
sill  has  introduced,  pertaining  to  the  shattered  body  and 
the  darkened  soul,  for  which  a  complete  remedy  has  not 
been  provided  in  the  plan  of  redemption.     Wo,  in  this 
life,  may  all  be  mitigated  by  that  plan,  and  completely 
removed  hereafter ;  the  soul,  contaminated  by  sin,  may 
become  yet  wholly  pure  ;  death,  the  great  evil,  may  be 
wholly  destroyed,  and  the  time  come  when  the  grave  shall 


GOD    IS    WORTHY    OF    CONFIDENCE.  129 

not  have  a  tenant,  and  when  the  whole  earth  shall  not 
have  a  tomb.  But  if  this  be  so,  then  there  is  ground  of 
confidence  in  the  government  of  God.  To  such  a  being 
I  would  not  be  a  stranger. 

(5.)  We  come  to  a  fifth  feature  of  his  administration. 
It  is,  that  in  that  plan  of  complete  recovery,  none  are  ex- 
cluded from  his  favor  who  desire  his  favor.  I  trust  you 
will  understand  me,  and  not  give  me  credit  for  any  more 
proof  under  this  point  than  I  deserve.  I  do  not  say  that 
none  are  finally  excluded  from  the  favor  of  God.  I  am 
not  able  to  come  to  such  a  conclusion.  But  this  is  my 
position,  that  none  are  excluded  from  his  favor  who  de- 
sire his  favor  ;  that  none  of  those  who  are  lost  had  any 
WISH  to  be  his  friends.  This  is  the  question  of  most 
thrilling  interest  to  us.  It  is  not  whether  any  have  been 
lost,  or  will  be.  It  is  not  whether  Achan,  Judas,  Simon 
Magus,  Cesar  Borgia,  Richard  III.,  and  Voltaire  went  to 
heaven.  It  is  whether  it  can  or  cannot  be  demonstrated 
that  any  have  been  sent  to  hell  who  sincerely  desired  to 
GO  TO  HEAVEN ;  whether  any  have  been  refused  forgive- 
ness of  sin  who  sincerely  wished  it  ;  whether  any  have 
been  thrust  away  from  the  cross  who  sincerely  ashed 
to  be  saved  by  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer ;  whether  any 
have  truly  plead  for  mercy,  and  have  been  denied  ;  whe- 
ther, in  the  world  of  wo,  it  can  ever  be  said — 

*<  Here's  a  soul  that  perished,  suing 
For  the  boasted  Saviour's  aid." 

If  there  have  been  any  such  instances,  it  is  right  to 
ask  where  the  evidence  is  to  be  found.  Is  it  in  the 
Bible  ?  To  me  it  speaks  a  wholly  different  language. 
Have  those  who  have  gone  down  to  death  ever  said  this  ? 
Have  Nero  and  Caligula,  Herod  and  Cesar  Borgia, 
Paine  and  D'Alembert  any  where  left  it  on  record  that 
they  had  sincerely  applied  for  pardon  and  salvation 
through  the  atonement  and  were  rejected,  and  that  they 
became  monsters  in  iniquity  because  God  would  not  save 
them  ?  Such  a  record  remains  yet  to  be  adduced.  Go  to 
the  multitudes  of  profligates  and  atheists  ;  the  dissolute 
and  the  profane  ;  the  unprincipled  and  the  vile,  and  ask 
them  the  question,  ^  Are  you  thus  because  you  went  in 
humble  prayer  before  God,  and  sued  for  pardon  and  sal- 


130  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

vation  in  the  name  of  the  Redeemer,  and  were  rejected  ?' 
And  what  would  be  the  answer  ?  A  volley  of  curses, 
perhaps,  that  the  question  was  asked  at  all ;  certainly- 
such  a  spirited  response  as  would  effectually  clear  them 
from  the  suspicion  that  they  had  ever  done  such  a  weak 
thing  as  to  pray.  The  truth  is  simply  this.  No  means 
will  induce  them  to  come  and  ask  for  pardon.  We  plead 
with  men  ;  we  urge  argument  and  entreaty  ;  we  appeal 
to  their  consciences,  their  hopes,  their  fears ;  we  point 
them  to  heaven,  and  we  warn  them  of  hell,  but  all  in 
vain.  The  great  mass  press  on  in  the  broad  road  to  death, 
and  scarce  one  takes  the  pains  even  to  turn  his  head  and 
to  say — what  he  feels — that  he  scorns  the  idea  of  seeking 
salvation  through  a  Redeemer.  Meantime  here  and  there 
one  leaves  "  the  herd,"  comes  back,  and  asks  for  mercy ; 
and  I  appeal  to  the  whole  history  of  the  world — from  the 
publican  and  the  dying  thief  to  the  present  time — in  proof 
that  no  one  who  came  in  that  manner  was  ever  rejected. 
And  to  the  same  universal  history  I  appeal  with  the  same 
confidence  in  proof  that  no  one  of  the  lost  ever  sincerely 
desired  to  be  saved.  But  if  so,  here  is  at  least  one  ground 
of  confidence  in  God.     What  could  we  ask  more  ? 

(6.)  I  have  one  other  remark  only  to  make  now — for 
the  time  will  not  admit  of  more.  It  is,  that  they  who 
know  most  of  the  character  and  government  of  God,  and 
who  are  best  qualified  to  judge,  repose  most  entire  con- 
fidence in  him.  Angels  in  heaven  doubt  not  his  goodness, 
and  mercy,  and  truth,  and  in  their  bosoms  there  dwells 
no  distrust.  Multitudes  on  earth  who  were  once  alien- 
ated and  even  miserable  because  they  were  alienated  ; 
who  murmured  against  God,  and  who,  in  murmuring, 
found  no  relief;  and  who  rebelled  in  the  day  of  adversity, 
and  thus  plunged  themselves  into  deeper  sorrows,  have 
returned,  and  now  see  that  he  is  worthy  of  their  highest 
trust.  Since  their  return  ;  since  they  have  become  ^  ac- 
quainted' with  him,  they  have  been  at  peace.  They  have 
not  doubted  that  he  was  qualified  to  rule  ;  and  they  have 
committed  to  him  the  interest  dearest  to  mortals — the  in- 
terest of  the  immortal  soiil — and  felt  that  all  was  safe. 
Prophets  and  apostles  did  this  ;  confessors  and  martyrs 
did  it ;  and  there  are  tens  of  thousands  now  on  earth, 
and  millions  in  heaven  who  have  done  it.  God  they  have 


GOD    IS    WORTHY    OF    CONFIDENCE.  131 

found  true  to  his  promises.  The  afflicted  have  found 
him  a  support ;  the  dying  have  leaned  on  his  arm  ;  and 
the  living  now  find  him  all  that  the  heart  desires  to  find 
m  their  God.  I  make  use  of  this  as  an  argument.  It  is 
the  argument  of  history ;  of  experience.  You  will  not 
doubt  that  it  is  a  legitimate  argument,  for  they  have  had 
all  the  feelings  of  distrust,  and  complaining,  and  murmur- 
ing, which  any  can  have  now,  and  they  have  passed 
through  all  the  circumstances  which  we  can  conceive  of 
to  test  our  confidence  in  God.  It  has  been  enough.  They 
have  been  upheld,  and  have  found  it  true  that  he  would 
^  never  leave  nor  forsake  them.' 

JNIy  hearers,  I  have  desired  so  to  set  this  subject  before 
you  as  to  describe  your  state  of  mind,  and  to  show  you 
the  propriety  of  being  reconciled  to  God.  I  know  not 
that  I  have  succeeded  in  removing  one  difficulty  from  the 
mind  ;  but  I  would  trust  that  the  remarks  Avhich  I  have 
made  will  not  increase  the  perplexity.  To  you  candidly 
I  commit  the  remarks  made ;  with  God  I  leave  them  for 
his  blessing.  The  conclusions  which  I  think  we  have 
reached,  are  these — 

(1.)  It  is  a  duty  to  be  reconciled  to  God  : — a  duty  to 
him,  for  his  government  is  just  and  right,  and  opposition 
to  him  is  lurnng. 

(2.)  It  is  unwise  to  maintain  the  state  of  mind  in  which 
many  indulge — chafed  and  fretted  against  God,  and  yet 
using  no  means  to  ascertain  his  true  character,  and  to  be 
at  peace. 

(3.)  The  world  is  doing  its  Creator  great  injustice.  It 
charges  him  with  cruelty  and  wrong;  holds  him  to  be 
unworthy  of  confidence  and  love ;  is  filled  with  hard 
thoughts  and  fretted  feelings  ;  and  is  venting  complaints 
and  murmurings.  Thousands  murmur  in  their  hearts ; 
thousands  complain  openly ;  thousands  curse  him  on  his 
throne.     What  a  world  ! 

(4.)  It  is  foolish  as  well  as  wicked  to  resist  him.  What 
can  resistance  avail  against  almighty  power  !  Justice  and 
wisdom,  truth  and  love  constrain  us,  therefore,  to  say  to 
each  one  of  you,  '  Acquaint  now  thyself  with  him,  and 
be  at  peace  !' 


SERMON  IX. 


REPENTANCE. 


Acts  xvii,  30.  And  the  times  of  this  ignorance  God  winked  at,  but  now 
commandelh  all  men  every  where  to  repent. 

This  command  is  as  positive  as  any  other  in  the  Bible. 
It  is  simple  and  easily  understood.  From  its  obligations 
there  are  no  exceptions  made  in  favor  of  the  great,  the 
learned,  the  honored,  the  gay,  the  amiable,  the  moral. 
It  is  addressed  to  all  men,  in  all  climes,  and  in  all  ages  of 
the  world.  It  comes,  therefore,  to  ns,  and  is  laid  across 
our  path.  Repentance  is  here  urged  as  the  command  of 
the  Almighty.  In  other  places  it  is  declared  to  be  indis- 
pensable to  salvation,  and  we  are  assured  that  unless  we 
repent  we  shall  perish. 

Yet  men  have  many  objections  to  yielding  obedience 
to  this  command  of  God.  At  one  time  they  allege,  or  they 
would  allege  if  they  were  to  express  the  real  feelings  of 
the  heart,  that  they  have  done  nothing  which  requires 
repentance.  They  have  done  no  wrong  which  they  have 
not  endeavored  to  repair,  and  they  are  conscious  of  no 
crime.  They  are  not  idolators  ;  they  have  not  been  guilty 
of  murder,  or  robbery,  or  fraud,  or  falsehood.  Their  lives 
have  been  upright,  and  why  should  they  weep  ?  At 
another  time  it  is  said,  that  repentance  is  wholly  beyond 
the  power  of  man ;  that  it  is  a  work  which  can  only  be 
performed  by  the  aid  of  God  ;  and  the  expression  of  won- 
der is  scarce  withheld  that  a  command  should  be  urged 
to  do  that  wliich  it  is  known  will  never  be  done  but  by 
divine  assistance.  At  another  time  it  is  alleged,  that  the 
requirement  is  wholly  arbitrary ;  that  the  terms  of  salva- 
tion have  in  themselves  no  intrinsic  value  or  necessit)^;  and 
that  it  is  unreasonable  that  God  should  suspend  eternal 
salvation  on  the  exercise  of  repentance  and  faith.  Why, 
it  is  asked,  has  he  selected  from  all  the  exercises  of  min 
these  tivo  as  those  in  connexion  with  which  he  will  be- 

133 


REPENTANCE.  133 

Stow  salvation  ?  Why  these  more  than  love,  or  hope,  or 
joy,  or  zeal  ?  Is  there  any  such  intrmsic  fitness  or  value 
in  sorrow  and  in  faith  in  Christianity  as  to  justify  this  se- 
lection as  constituting  the  only  ground  of  salvation  ?  And 
why  in  this  arrangement  has  he  chosen  these  mere  emo- 
tions  of  the  heart  in  preference  to  a  correct  moral  cha- 
racter as  the  conditions  of  his  favor  ?  Would  it  not  be 
more  worthy  of  God  to  make  eternal  life  depend  on  virtue 
and  benevolence ;  on  honesty  and  truth  ;  on  the  faithful 
discharge  of  our  duties  in  the  family  and  in  public  life, 
than  on  regret  for  the  past,  and  on  the  mere  exercise  of 
faith  ?  And  why  is  it  that  he  requires  the  man  of  many 
years  and  many  virtues,  and  the  youth  of  great  amiable- 
ness  and  purity,  to  renounce  all  confidence  in  these  vir- 
tues and  all  dependence  on  them,  and  to  approach  God 
weeping  over  the  errors  of  a  life  ?  Can  he  require  feigned 
sorrow  ?  Can  there  be  virtue  in  forced  and  affected 
tears?  Again  it  is  asked,  why  has  God  made  the  path  to 
heaven  a  path  of  sorrow  ?  Why  must  we  go  with  the 
head  bowed  down  with  grief?  Why  has  he  made  the 
road  a  thorn-hedge,  and  not  planted  it  with  roses  ?  Are 
there  no  joyous  emotions  that  might  have  been  made  the 
condition  of  salvation  ;  nothing  that  would  make  the  eye 
bright,  and  the  heart  cheerful,  and  the  soul  glad,  that 
might  have  been  selected  of  at  least  equal  value  with 
pensiveness  and  a  heavy  heart;  with  melancholy  and 
tears  ? 

Such  are  some  of  the  feelings  that  spring  up  in  the  mind 
when  we  come  to  men  and  urge  upon  them  tlie  duty  of 
repentance.  My  desire  is,  if  possible,  to  meet  these  feel- 
ings, and  to  convince  you  that  they  are  unfounded.  I 
shall  aim  to  show  you  that  the  requisition  of  repentance 
is  not  arbitrary,  but  that  it  is  founded  in  the  nature  of 
things,  and  that  a  man  must  repent  if  he  will  ever  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  God.  In  doing  this,  I  shall  submit  to 
your  attention  a  series  of  observations,  which  will  have 
a  direct  bearing  on  the  case  before  us. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  repentance  is  a  simple  operation 
of  mind  understood  by  all  persons,  and  in  some  form 
practised  by  all.  You  cannot  find  a  person  who  at  some 
time  has  not  exercised  repentance.  You  cannot  find  a 
child  who  needs  to  be  told  what  is  meant  by  being  re- 


134  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

quired  to  repent  when  he  has  done  a  wrong  thmg ;  and 
in  the  emotions  of  a  child,  when  he  feels  sorrow  that 
he  has  done  wrong,  and  who  resolves  to  make  con- 
fession of  it  and  to  do  so  no  more,  you  have  the  elements 
of  all  that  God  requires  of  man  as  a  condition  of  salvation. 
You  have  broken  the  commands  of  a  father.  His  law 
was  plain ;  his  will  was  clear.  When  the  deed  is  per- 
formed, you  reflect  on  what  you  have  done.  You  see 
that  his  command  was  right ;  that  you  have  done  wrong 
by  breaking  his  law,  and  have  incurred  his  just  displea- 
sure. He  has  always  treated  you  kindly ;  his  commands 
have  never  been  unreasonable;  and  you  cannot  justify 
yourself  in  what  you  have  done.  You  see  that  you  have 
done  wrong.  By  a  law  of  your  nature  you  feel  pain  or 
distress  that  you  did  the  wrong.  You  resolve  that  you 
will  go  and  confess  it,  and  that  you  will  do  so  no  more. 
This  is  repentance  ;  and  this  is  the  whole  of  it.  You  have 
a  friend.  He  has  a  thousand  times,  and  in  a  thousand 
ways,  laid  you  under  obligation.  He  has  helped  you  in 
pecuniary  distress ;  shared  your  losses ;  attended  you  in 
sickness;  defended  your  reputation  when  attacked.  He 
himself,  in  turn,  suffers.  Wicked  men  blacken  and  defame 
his  character,  and  a  cloud  rolls  upon  him  and  overwhelms 
him.  In  an  evil  hour  your  mind  is  poisoned,  and  you 
forget  all  that  he  has  done  for  you,  and  you  join  in  the 
prevalent  suspicion  and  error  in  regard  to  him,  and  give 
increased  currency  to  the  slanderous  reports.  Subsequent- 
ly you  reflect  that  it  was  all  wrong ;  that  you  acted  an 
imgrateful  part ;  that  you  suffered  your  mind  to  be  too 
easily  influenced  to  forget  your  benefactor,  and  that  you 
have  done  him  great  and  lasting  injury.  You  are  pained 
at  the  heart.  You  resolve  that  you  will  go  to  him  and 
make  confession,  and  that  you  will  implore  forgiveness, 
and  that  you  will  endeavor  as  far  as  possible  to  undo  the 
evil.  This  is  repentance  ;  and  this  is  all.  Let  these  simple 
elements  be  transferred  to  God  and  to  rehgion,  and  you 
have  all  that  is  included  in  repentance.  Be  as  honest  to- 
wards God  as  you  have  been  many  a  time  toward  a  pa- 
rent or  a  friend,  and  you  will  have  no  difficulty  on  the 
subject.  You  will  see  that  it  was  neither  arbitrary  nor 
unreasonable.  The  difficulty  is,  when  you  approach  reli- 
gion you  are  determined  to  find  something  unintelligible, 


REPENTANCE.  135 

severe,  and  harsh,  and  you  at  once  suppose  that  God  in 
his  arrangement  is  arbitrary  and  unkind. 

I  said  that  repentance  was  well  understood  by  all  per- 
sons, and  practised  by  all.  Nothing  is  more  common  on 
earth ; — on  earth  only.  The  angels  in  heaven  having 
never  sinned  have  nothing  of  which  to  repent ;  and  of 
course  it  is  unknown  there.  Devils,  though  having  sinned 
long  and  much,  have  yet  felt  no  regret  at  their  crime,  and 
have  never  been  disposed  to  go  and  ask  for  pardon  :  and 
there  is  no  repentance  among  them.  Sinners  that  descend 
from  our  world  to  the  world  of  wo,  go  beyond  the  reach 
of  mercy  and  the  desire  of  pardon,  and  there  is  no  peni- 
tence in  hell.  But  on  earth  what  is  more  common  ?  Who 
is  there  that  has  not  exercised  repentance  ?  Who  is  there 
that  has  never  felt  that  he  has  done  wrong,  and  that  has 
resolved  that  he  would  do  so  no  more  ?  No  inconsidera- 
ble portion  of  every  man's  life  is  made  up  of  regrets  for 
the  errors  and  follies  of  the  past.  No  small  part  of  the 
sighs  and  groans  of  the  world  are  the  bitter  fruit  of  mis- 
takes and  crimes.  No  small  part  of  the  recollections  of  an 
old  man  are  made  up  of  remembrances  of  days  of  folly 
and  of  subsequent  regret ;  of  the  indulgence  of  appetite 
and  passion,  and  of  the  bitterly  lamented  fruits;  of  wrong 
thoughts,  and  wrong  words,  and  wrong  deeds  over  which 
he  has  had  abundant  leisure  to  mourn.  These  feelings 
occur  on  the  remembrance  of  errors,  follies,  crimes.  They 
invade  the  mind  because  we  feel  that  w^e  have  done 
ivrong,  and  that  we  ought  to  have  done  difterently.  They 
are  not  arbitrary.  They  are  the  operations  of  the  regular 
laws  of  the  mind ;  and  they  are  operations  which  a  gene- 
rous and  noble  heart  would  not  wish  to  check  or  prevent. 

If  such  feelings  actually  occur  on  the  recollection  of 
the  past,  it  is  natural  to  ask  why  we  should  not  expect  to 
find  them  in  religion  ?  We  see  repentance  every  where 
else,  and  manifested  in  every  man's  life.  We  perceive 
regrets  at  the  past  starting  up  in  the  minds  of  men  of  all 
ages  and  all  lands ;  and  why  shall  it  be  regarded  as  strange 
that  it  is  required  in  a  system  of  religion  designed  to  recall 
the  world  from  error  and  from  sin  ? 

Further;  the  most  deep  and  pungent  feelings  which 
men  ever  have  are  found  in  regrets  for  the  crimes  of  the 
past.     The  mind  no  where  else  knows  emotions  so  over- 


136  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

whelming  and  so  torturing,  as  in  the  recollections  of  past 
guilt.  And  why,  then,  should  deep  emotion  he  deemed 
strange  or  unreasonable  in  religion  ?  Why  should  it  be 
regarded  as  fanatical  that  the  soul  should  be  burdened 
with  a  sense  of  guilt  when  it  comes  back  to  God  ?  If  you 
feel  pained  when  you  recollect  that  you  have  wounded 
the  feelings  of  a  friend  ;  if  your  mind  is  overwhelmed 
when  you  thhik  of  disobedience  towards  a  parent, 
whether  now  living  or  dead ;  if  you  are  overwhelmed 
when  you  are  made  conscious  that  you  have  been  guilty 
of  great  ingratitude,  I  ask  why  may  we  not  expect  that 
there  will  be  deep  feeling  in  the  return  of  a  sinner  to  God  ? 
The  sins  which  you  have  committed  against  a  friend, 
a  parent,  or  an  earthly  benefactor,  are  trifles  when  com- 
pared with  the  sins  which  we  have  committed  against 
our  heavenly  friend,  parent,  benefactor.  David  was  guilty 
of  two  of  the  most  aggravated  otfences  which  can  be  com- 
mitted against  human  laws.  That  he  felt  the  criminality 
of  these  offences  as  committed  against  inan  no  one  can 
doubt ;  but  great  as  this  consciousness  of  guilt  was  when 
regarded  as  committed  against  vian,  it  was  absorbed 
and  lost  when  he  contemplated  his  offence  as  committed 
against  God.  "  Against  thee,  thee  only,"  said  he, 
"  have  I  sinned,  and  done  this  evil  in  thy  sight."  Ps.  li.  4. 
My  wonder  is  not  that  men  feel  deeply  when  they  exer- 
cise true  repentance  and  become  Christians,  nor  is  it  that 
here  and  there  one  is  so  overwhelmed  as  to  be  driven  to 
permanent  derangement.  It  is  a  matter  of  marvel  that 
they  feel  so  little  ;  and  a  subject  of  praise  and  thanks- 
giving that  in  nearly  every  instance  the  divine  mercy  in- 
terposes, and  the  voice  of  pardon  is  heard  speaking  to  the 
soul,  before  the  anxious  and  guilty  sinner  sinks  into 
despair. 

II.  My  second  proposition  is,  that  God  may  appoint 
his  own  terms  of  mercy,  and  that  man  has  no  right  to 
complain  if  he  requires  him  to  exercise  repentance  as  a 
condition  of  salvation.  This  general  proposition  is  true 
in  relation  to  every  thing,  that  God  may  appoint  his  own 
terms  on  which  his  favors  may  be  enjoyed,  and  that  man 
has  neither  the  right  to  dictate  nor  complain.  Health  is 
his  gift ;  and  he  has  the  absolute  right — a  right  which  he 
is  constantly  exercising — to  state  to  man  on  what  terms 


REPENTANCE.  137 

It  may  be  enjoyed ;  and  if  he  does  not  choose  to  comply 
with  those  terms,  God  will  not  depart  from  his  settled 
laws  to  give  him  health  by  miracle.  Life  is  his  gift,  and 
he  has  a  right  to  say  on  what  terms  it  shall  be  enjoyed ; 
property  is  his  gift,  and  he  has  a  right  to  say  to  man  how 
it  may  be  possessed.  In  like  manner,  pardon  is  the  gift 
of  God,  and  he  has  a  right  to  say  on  what  terms  it  may 
be  obtained.  An  offender  against  law  has  no  right  to  de- 
mand forgiveness ;  nor  has  he  any  more  right  to  prescribe 
the  terms  on  which  it  may  be  obtained.  Heaven  is  God's 
home ;  and  he  has  a  right  to  say  to  men  on  what  terms 
they  may  be  admitted  to  live  with  him.  Assuredly  men 
cannot  claim  of  God  the  right  to  be  admitted  to  heaven, 
and  to  prescribe  to  him  the  terms  on  which  he  will  receive 
them  to  favor  there.  If,  therefore,  God  has  declared  that 
repentance  and  faith  are  the  indispensable  conditions  on 
which  man  may  be  admitted  to  favor  and  to  heaven,  no 
one  can  complain.  The  only  appropriate  question  to 
ask  is,  whether  in  fact  he  has  appointed  them  as  the  in- 
dispensable conditions.  That  settled,  every  question  on 
the  subject  is  at  rest. 

If  we  may  illustrate  great  things  by  small,  and  appeal  to 
men  for  the  propriety  of  this  to  their  own  doings,  I  would 
observe  that  God  is  dealing  with  you  in  this  respect  just 
as  you  deal  with  your  fellow-men.  You  have  a  house. 
It  is  your  castle  ;  your  home.  No  one  has  a  right  to  come 
there  without  your  consent.  You  will  admit  no  one  to 
your  dwelling,  or  to  your  table,  or  to  intercourse  with 
your  sons  and  daughters,  who  does  not  choose  to  comply 
with  the  reasonable  conditions  which  you  may  choose  to 
have  observed — whether  they  be  such  merely  as  society 
has  chosen  to  appoint  in  general,  or  such  particular  con- 
ditions as  you  may  think  good  order  in  your  house  re- 
quires. Why  complain  of  God  if  he  does  the  same  thing  ? 
You  are  a  parent.  A  child  violates  your  commands.  Do 
you  not  feel  that  you  have  a  right  to  prescribe  the  terms 
on  which  he  may  obtain  your  forgiveness  ?  Do  you  not 
feel  that  pardon  is  yours,  to  bestow  or  withhold  as  you 
shall  choose  ?  You  have  a  friend ;  or  there  is  one  who 
was  your  professed  friend.  He  has  greatly  wronged  you. 
The  offence  is  undeniable ;  it  is  admitted.  Do  you  not 
feel  that  you  have  a  right  to  prescribe  to  him  the  terms 

12* 


13S  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

on  which  he  may  be  admitted  to  your  favor  and  enjoy 
your  friendship  again  ?  And  if  you  should  require  that 
he  should  express  regret,  and  confess  the  wrong,  and  re- 
pair the  evil,  would  you  think  that  he  had  a  right  to  com- 
plain of  you  ?  And  would  you  think  it  a  sujflicient  answer 
to  this  if  lie  should  say,  that  he  had  no  power  to  do  it,  or 
that  you  might  have  planted  the  path  of  return  with 
flowers  rather  than  with  thorns  ?  How  obvious  the  an- 
swer that  it  would  be  as  easy  to  make  the  confession,  as 
to  do  the  wrong,  and  that  as  to  the  thorns  in  the  case,  he 
planted  them  by  his  own  wrong-doing,  and  not  you.  And 
since  we  every  where  claim  the  right  to  say  on  what 
terms  those  who  have  injured  us  may  again  be  per- 
mitted to  partake  of  our  favors,  why  should  we  complain 
of  our  Maker  if  the  same  thing  occurs  under  his  govern- 
ment ? 

The  proposition,  therefore,  that  God  has  a  right  to  ap- 
point his  own  terms  of  favor  cannot  be  disputed.  If  re- 
pentance be  one  of  the  conditions,  he  has  a  right  to  say 
that  this  is  indispensable  to  obtaining  his  favor.  You 
deem  it  an  incumbrance,  a  clog,  a  hindrance  to  your  return. 
But  even  if  it  were  so,  the  question  would  be  whether  it 
would  not  still  be  wise  to  accept  of  salvation  cumbered 
with  temporary  sorrow  here  in  the  hope  of  eternal  glory 
hereafter,  or  whether  it  would  be  best  to  perish  forever 
because  God  had  appended  such  a  condition  to  the  offer 
of  life.  IVIy  remarks  under  this  head  tend  to  this,  that 
even  if  the  appointment  ivere  loholly  arhitrary^  God  has 
a  right  to  make  it,  and  man  has  no  right  to  complain. 

III.  My  third  proposition  is,  that  when  wrong  has  been 
done  among  men,  the  only  way  to  obtain  again  the  favor 
of  those  who  have  been  injured  is  by  repentance.  No 
man  who  has  done  evil  in  any  way  can  be  restored  to 
forfeited  favor  but  by  just  this  process  of  repentance — by 
a  process  involving  all  the  elements  of  grief,  shame,  re- 
morse, reformation,  confession,  that  are  demanded  in  re- 
ligion.    Let  us  recur  to  some  of  the  former  illustrations. 

You  are  a  father.  A  child  does  wrong.  Pie  violates 
your  law ;  offends  you ;  treats  you  with  disrespect  or 
scorn.  He  goes  abroad  and  represents  your  government 
at  home  as  severe,  and  gives  himself  up  to  unbridled  dis- 


REPENTANCE.  139 

sipation.  Regardless  of  your  commands  and  of  your 
feelings,  he  becomes  the  companion  of  the  dissipated  and 
the  vile ;  and  with  those  companions  wastes  the  fruits  of 
your  labors.  Towards  that  son  you  cherish  still  all  a 
father's  feelings ;  but  I  may  appeal  to  any  such  unhappy 
parent  to  say  whether  he  would  admit  him  to  the  same 
degree  of  confidence  and  favor  as  before  without  some 
evidence  of  repentance.  You  demand  that  he  should  ex- 
press regret  for  the  errors  and  follies  of  his  life ;  you  de- 
mand evidence  that  will  be  satisfactory  to  you  that  he 
will  not  do  the  same  thing  again ;  you  require  proof  that 
he  will  be  disposed  by  a  virtuous  life  to  repair  as  far  as 
possible,  the  injury  which  he  has  done  you  ;  and  the  mo- 
ment you  hear  him  sincerely  say,  "  Father,  I  have  sinned 
against  heaven,  and  before  thee,  and  am  not  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  son,"  that  moment  you  are  ready  to  go  out  and 
meet  him,  and  to  throw  your  arms  around  his  neck  and  to 
forgive  him. — You  have  had  a  friend.  You  thought  him 
sincere.  But  he  betrayed  you ;  and  in  feeling,  in  property, 
in  character  you  have  been  made  to  suffer  by  him.  I  ask 
any  man  whether  he  can  receive  such  a  friend  again  to 
his  bosom,  and  press  him  to  his  heart,  without  some  evi- 
dence of  regret  at  what  he  has  done,  and  some  proof  that 
he  will  not  do  it  again  ?  You  cannot  do  it.  You  cannot 
force  your  nature  to  do  it.  The  sea  might  as  well  break 
over  the  iron  bound  shore,  or  the  river  flow  back  and 
again  climb  up  the  mountain  side  where  it  leaped  down 
in  cascades,  as  for  you  to  do  it.  You  will  convince  your- 
self in  some  way  that  he  regrets  what  he  has  done,  and 
that  he  will  not  do  it  again,  or  you  can  never  receive  him 
again  with  the  confidence  of  a  friend.  Your  nature  is  as 
firm  on  this  point  as  the  everlasting  hills,  and  is,  in  this 
respect,  but  the  counter-part  and  the  image  of  God,  who 
does  the  same  thing. —  In  like  manner  it  is  with  those  who 
have  committed  offences  against  a  community.  Of  the 
man  who  has  been  guilty  of  theft,  burglary,  arson,  or 
forgery,  and  who  has  been  sentenced  and  punished  for 
these  offences,  the  community  demand  evidence  that  he 
has  repented  of  the  crime,  and  that  he  purposes  to  do  so 
no  more,  before  it  will  admit  him  again  to  its  favor.  If 
you  go  into  his  cell  and  find  him  alone  on  his  knees  be- 


140  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

fore  God  confessing  the  sin  ;  if  you  see  in  him  the  evidence 
of  regret  and  sorrow  that  it  was  done  ;  if  you  beUeve  that 
the  reformation  is  entire  and  sincere,  the  community  will 
again  receive  him  to  its  bosom,  and  will  forgive  and 
forget  the  past,  and  he  may  rise  to  public  confidence, 
and  even  to  affluence  and  honor.  But  if  none  of  these 
things  are  seen ;  if  he  spends  the  years  of  his  sentence 
sullen  and  hardened,  and  profane,  and  without  one  sigh 
or  tear,  he  is  never  forgiven.  He  may  have  paid  the 
penalty  of  the  law,  but  he  is  not  forgiven ; — and  he  goes 
forth  to  meet  the  frowns  of  an  indignant  community,  to  be 
watched  with  an  eagle  eye,  and  to  be  excluded  all  his  life 
from  the  atfections  and  confidence  of  mankind.  Univer- 
sally it  is  true  that  where  an  oftence  has  been  committed 
and  there  is  evidence  of  repentance,  the  otiender  may  be 
restored  to  favor ;  where  there  is  no  regret,  shame,  the 
curse  of  man  and  of  his  Maker  alike  rest  upon  him. 

IV.  My  fourth  proposition  is,  that  in  the  actual  course 
of  events  under  the  divine  administration,  it  is  only  in 
connexion  with  repentance  that  forfeited  favors  can  be 
recovered.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  repentance  will  al- 
ways repair  the  evil  of  the  past;  that  it  will  restore  to  a 
man  the  money  which  he  has  squandered  by  dissipation ; 
that  it  will  recover  the  health  which  has  been  lost  by 
vicious  indulgence,  or  that  it  will  recall  to  hfe  the  man 
that  has  been  murdered.  But  my  meaning  is,  that  if  a 
man  who  has  done  wrong  is  ever  restored  in  any  mea- 
sure to  the  forfeited  favor  of  God  it  will  be  in  connec- 
tion with  repentance.  A  process  of  repentance,  similar 
to  that  required  by  the  Christian  religion,  is  inevitable, 
and  unless  that  exist,  the  forfeited  favor  can  never  be  re- 
gained. A  man  has  wasted  his  health  and  property  by 
intemperance.  He  was  once  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances ;  saw  around  him  a  happy  family ;  was  respected 
and  beloved ;  enjoyed  health,  and  was  rising  to  affluence. 
He  yielded  to  temptation,  and  all  is  now  swept  away. — 
Peace  has  lied  from  his  dwelling,  and  his  wife  sits  in  po- 
verty and  in  tears,  and  his  chifdren  are  growing  up  in 
idleness  and  vice,  and  he  is  fast  hastening  to  a  drunkard's 
grave.  Is  there  any  way,  now,  by  which  health,  and 
domestic  peace,  and  property,  and  respectability  may  be 
recovered  ?     There  is.     But  how  ?     By  this  course.    He 


REPENTANCE.  141 

will  reflect  on  his  sin  and  folly.  He  will  feel  deeply 
pained  at  tlie  evil  he  has  done.  He  will  lament  that 
coarse  of  life  which  has  taken  comfort  and  peace  from  his 
dweUiug.  He  will  resolve  to  forsake  the  ways  of  sin,  and 
will  abandon  forever  the  intoxicating  bowl.  He  will  re- 
form his  life,  and  become  sober,  industrious,  and  kind — 
and  health  may  again  revisit  his  frame,  and  peace  Ids 
fcimily,  and  his  farm  will  again  be  fenced,  and  ploughed, 
and  sown,  and  the  rich  harvest  will  again  wave  in  the 
summer  sun.  But  this  is  the  very  way  in  which  God  re- 
quires the  sinner  to  come  back  to  himself  He  requires 
him  to  reflect  on  the  past ;  to  feel  as  he  ought  that  he  has 
pursued  a  guilty  course ;  to  break  off  his  transgressions, 
and  to  lead  a  different  life.  Why  should  it  be  thought 
more  strange  in  religion  than  in  the  actual  course  of 
events  ? 

The  same  is  true  of  a  gambler.  He  has  been  led  on 
by  the  arts  of  temptation  till  he  has  lost  his  all.  He  had 
received  a  competence  as  the  heir  to  a  wealthy  father. 
Now  it  is  all  gone.  From  one  step  to  another  he  has 
been  drawn  into  temptation  with  amazing  rapidity,  till 
he  is  now  stript  of  all,  and  is  penniless,  and  is  ready  to 
give  himself  up  to  despair.  Is  there  any  way  by  which 
he  can  emerge  from  this  depth  of  woes,  and  become  a 
man  of  respectability  and  property  again  ?  There  is 
one,  and  but  one  way.  It  is  a  straight  and  a  narrow 
path — like  that  which  leads  to  heaven.  It  will  not  be 
found  by  treading  on  in  the  blighted  and  parched  way 
in  which  he  is  now  going.  It  will  be  by  the  follow- 
ing process.  He  will  reflect  on  the  folly  and  the  guilt  of 
his  course.  He  will  feel  pain  and  regret  at  the  remem- 
brance of  that  sad  hour  when  he  yielded  to  temptation. 
He  will  mourn  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul  over  that  dark 
day.  He  will  resolve  that  he  will  never  enter  a  gambling 
room  again,  and  that  he  will  devote  his  life  to  a  course  of 
steady  industry  and  virtue ; — and  the  confidence  of  his 
fellow-men  he  may  regain,  and  God  will  bestow  on  him 
wealth  and  respectability.  But  this  is  substantially  the 
way  in  which  a  sinner  is  to  return  to  God.  This  is  re- 
pentance. 

So  in  respect  to  indolence,  vice,  dissipation,  crime  in  all 
forms.     If  men  ever  turn  back  these  evils  j  if  they  ever 


142  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

arrest  this  descending  curse  ;  if  they  ever  escape  from  the 
withering  and  bUghting  influence  which  pursues  the 
wicked,  it  must  be  in  connexion  with  repentance.  If 
there  is  no  evidence  of  repentance  and  reform,  that 
withering  and  bhghting  influence  will  pursue  the  indivi- 
dual over  sea  and  land,  to  the  end  of  the  world  and  to  the 
end  of  life.  He  can  never  escape  the  curse  of  violating 
the  laws  of  heaven  until  he  gives  evidence  of  sincere  sor- 
row for  Avhat  he  has  done.  But  the  moment  that  is  done, 
the  avenger  ceases  to  pursue  him ;  friends  come  again 
around  him  ;  and  he  finds  peace  in  his  own  bosom,  and 
in  every  man  he  finds  a  friend. 

V.  The  necessity  of  repentance  could  not  be  avoided 
by  any  arrrangement  whatever.  It  7mist  exist  whenever 
there  is  returning  love  to  God ;  and  had  it  not  have  been 
required  in  a  formal  manner  as  a  condition  of  salvation, 
still  it  would  have  been  true  that  no  sinner  would  ever 
have  returned  from  his  ways  and  come  back  to  God, 
Avithout  exercising  repentance. 

A  moment's  reflection  will  satisfy  any  one  of  this.  The 
law  of  God  requires  ttovE  to  him  as  to  the  supreme  rule 
of  life.  That  law  man  has  violated  ;  and  the  gospel  re- 
quiring repentance  meets  him  as  a  sinner,  and  requires 
him  to  return  to  the  love  of  God.  Now  no  alienated  man 
can  come  back  to  this  love  of  God  without  regret  that  he 
wandered  away  from  him.  To  return  to  my  former  illus- 
tration. A  child  is  bound  to  love  his  father.  He  fails  to 
evince  the  love  which  he  ought  to,  and  becomes  disobe- 
dient. Can  that  child  be  brought  back  from  the  state 
of  alienation,  and  have  his  bosom  glow  with  love,  with 
no  regret  that  he  has  not  showed  that  love  before? 
Can  he  now  look  on  the  excellence  of  his  father's  charac- 
ter, and  the  reasonableness  of  his  laws,  and  feel  no  regre 
that  he  has  not  always  loved  him,  and  obeyed  him  ?  Can 
he  look  over  that  long,  dark  period,  which  has  passed  in 
alienation,  and  feel  that  he  had  done  no  wrong,  and  ex- 
perience no  self-condemnation  ?  It  could  not  be.  Not 
thus  is  the  human  heart  made ;  and  he  who  has  ever 
come  back  from  alienation  to  love  has  returned  with  regret 
and  tears. 

Love  is  the  grand  principle  on  which  God  intends  to 
bind  all  worlds  in  harmony.     It  is  the  central  virtue 


REPENTANCE.  143 

whose  influence  is  radiated  over  all  others.  God  might 
have  governed  the  universe  by  terrors,  and  by  flames, 
and  by  the  dread  of  stripes,  and  by  chains,  and  adaman- 
tine walls.  But  he  designed  to  make  love  the  great  prin- 
ciple of  his  administration  every  where,  and  it  was 
presumed  that  this  was  enough.  It  is  enough.  If  in  a 
family  you  can  secure  proper  love  between  a  husband  and 
wife,  parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters,  it  is 
enough.  You  may  lay  aside  your  rod,  and  dismiss  your 
system  of  terrors.  If  in  a  neighborhood  you  can  secure 
love — the  love  of  one  neighbor  for  another,  it  is  enough. 
There  will  be  no  brawls  ;  no  law-suits  ;  no  heart-burnings. 
If  in  a  nation  you  can  secure  love  it  is  enough.  If  there 
is  the  love  of  country  in  every  bosom  leading  all  to  a  rea- 
diness to  defend  that  country's  rights ;  if  there  is  the  love 
of  law,  and  justice  ;  if  there  is  the  love  of  a  people  towards 
their  rulers,  and  of  rulers  for  their  people,  it  would  be 
enough.  You  might  shut  up  your  prisons,  and  dismiss 
your  judges  and  juries,  for  there  would  be  universal  har- 
mony. And  so  among  the  nations.  If  there  were  every 
where  the  love  of  God  and  mart ;  if  there  reigned  in 
every  human  bosom  the  love  of  a  brother  and  of  human 
rights ;  you  might  dismantle  your  forts,  and  disband 
your  armies,  and  the  sword  might  be  left  to  rust  in  the 
scabbard,  and  the  ship  of  war  be  left  to  decay  on  the 
stocks.  In  his  government,  God  intends  that  this  princi- 
ple shall  have  the  ascendency  and  shall  rule.  It  will  be 
the  same  principle  in  the  bosoms  of  angels  and  of  men. 
It  will  bind  the  most  lofty  spirit  of  the  skies  to  his  throne, 
and  the  most  humble  among  the  saints  on  earth — like  the 
mighty  law  which  binds  planets  in  their  orbits,  and  which 
bids  the  floating  particle  of  dust  to  seek  the  centre.  Had 
this  love  been  always  shown,  there  would  have  been  no 
sin,  no  crime,  no  war,  no  death. 

But  it  has  not  been  shown  always  on  earth.  The  im- 
penitent sinner  has  never  had  the  love  of  God  in  his 
heart.  He  has  been,  and  he  is,  an  alienated  being.  This 
he  knows ;  and  this  he  feels  in  that  moment  when  he  is 
pondering  the  question  whether  he  shall  return  to  God. 
Every  man  knows  that  he  has  not  loved  God  as  he  ought 
to  have  done,  and  the  impenitent  man  may  see,  if  he 
will  see,  that  from  the  first  dawn  of  his  being  to  the 


144  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

present  moment  he  has  not  put  forth  one  single  expression 
of  genuine  love  to  his  Maker.  Now  if  this  alienated 
being  comes  back  to  God,  it  will  be  only  by  repentance. 
He  will,  he  must  feel  regret  at  this  long  and  wasted  period 
of  his  life  which  has  been  spent  in  estrangement  from 
God.  He  will  look  with  deep  emotion  on  the  many 
mercies  which  his  Maker  has  conferred  on  him ;  or  with 
amazement  on  the  fact  that  to  this  moment  he  has  abused 
them  all.  No  man  ever  yet  passed  from  hatred  to  love 
without  experiencing  regret,  remorse,  and  sorrow  at  his 
former  course  of  life,  and  without  passing  through  a  pro- 
cess similar  to  that  which  God  requires  of  the  returning 
sinner.  And  no  man  ever  did,  or  can  return  to  God  from 
whom  he  has  been  alienated  without  feeling  and  express- 
ing regret  that  he  has  wandered,  and  without  a  purpose 
to  do  so  no  more.  At  the  remembrance  of  his  sins  and 
of  the  abused  mercies  of  God ;  at  the  view  of  the  goodness 
which  has  kept  him  in  all  his  wanderings,  and  especially 
of  the  mercy  which  sought  him  in  the  gift  of  a  Saviour, 
and  of  the  death  of  the  Redeemer  for  these  very  sins,  he 
must  feel  and  weep,  and  he  cannot  return  without  bitter 
regrets  that  he  abused  so  much  love  and  slighted  so  much 
mercy.  Returning  love,  and  a  sense  of  God's  goodness 
will  be  attended  with  sorrow  of  heart  that  he  ever  wan- 
dered, and  with  a  full  purpose  to  do  so  no  more : — and 
this  is  repentance.  How  could  God  be  willing  to  admit 
the  wanderer  to  his  favor  unless  he  were  willing  to  do  as 
much  as  this  ? 

I  might  add  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  a  man  to 
be  happy  in  heaven  unless  he  had  repented  of  the  errors 
and  follies  of  the  past.  The  man  who  has  injured  you — 
could  he  be  happy  in  your  family  unless  he  had  repented 
of  the  wrong  done,  and  obtained  your  forgiveness  ?  Were 
you  ever  happy  hi  the  presence  of  the  man  that  you  had 
wronged  until  you  confessed  it  and  obtained  pardon  ? 
Your  whole  nature  is  against  such  a  supposition,  and  it 
can  never  be.  The  deepest  misery  that  we  can  well  imagine 
would  be  to  be  doomed  to  live  forever  with  those  whom 
we  have  wronged ;  to  feel  that  they  knew  it ;  to  be  re- 
minded of  it  every  time  we  caught  their  eye,  and  yet  to 
be  too  proud  or  wicked  to  confess  it  and  ask  for  pardon  : 
and  how  then  could  an  impenitent  sinner  be  happy  in  the 


REPENTANCE.  145 

presence  of  a  much  injured  Saviour,  and  of  a  God  of 
abused  mercy  forever  and  ever  ? 

In  view  of  the  positions  which  I  have  endeavored  to 
defend  in  this  discourse,  I  may  remark, 

1.  That  Christianity  is  not  an  arbitrary  institution.  Its 
requirements  are  founded  in  the  nature  of  things.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  to  save  sinners,  or  to  have 
made  them  happy,  without  repentance — and  Christianity 
has  simply  said  that.  It  has  appointed  nothing  arbitrary ; 
nothing  unmeaning.  It  has  demanded  that  which  must 
exist;  which  does  exist  in  all  similar  circumstances;  and 
which  would  have  occurred  in  the  case  of  every  sinner 
coming  back  to  God  even  if  it  had  not  been  formally  re- 
quired. 

2.  Evil  is  often  done  by  representing  the  operations  of 
the  mind  in  religion  as  in  their  nature  essentially  different 
from  mental  operations  on  other  subjects.  As  a  mere 
operation  of  mind,  how  can  repentance  in  religion  differ 
from  repentance  exercised  towards  an  injured  parent  or 
friend  ?  The  mental  operation  is  simple  and  easily  un- 
derstood, and  all  are  familiar  with  it.  Who  is  there  here 
who  has  never  repented  of  any  thing  that  he  has  done  ? 
Who  that  has  not  confessed  a  wrong  ?  Who  that  does 
not  now  feel  that  he  has  much  to  regret  in  the  past,  and 
that  there  is  much  which  he  ought  to  confess  ?  Be  as 
honest  toward  God  as  you  have  been  toward  a  parent, 
lover,  or  friend,  and  you  would  have  no  difficulty  on  the 
subject  of  repentance.  It  would  be  easy  to  be  under- 
stood, and  your  difficulties  would  all  soon  vanish.  Yet 
when  you  approach  religion,  you  expect  and  desire  to 
find  every  thing  cold,  repulsive,  unreal,  arbitrary,  and 
impossible — and  are  unwilling  to  believe  that  religion  is 
the  most  simple  of  all  things,  and  that  it  is  in  entire  ac- 
cordance with  all  the  laws  of  the  human  mind.  What  is 
needful  is  to  bring  the  whole  subject  of  religion  back  to 
*'the  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ;"  to  take  away  the 
technicalities  of  the  "  schools,"  and  to  see  that  in  simpli- 
city it  is  adapted  to  children ;  in  sublimity  and  power  it  is 
in  accordance  with  the  laws  which  govern  the  highest 
intellects  on  earth  or  in  heaven. 

3.  Repentance  is  not  beyond  the  proper  exercise  of  the 
power  of  man.     Every  man  practices  it.     Every  child 

13 


146  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

repents.  Every  one  has  at  different  times  felt  regret  at 
something  that  he  has  done ;  has  made  confession ;  has 
resolved  to  do  so  no  more ;  has  turned  from  the  evil 
course.  This  is  repentance ;  and  no  one  in  such  a  case 
has  resorted  to  any  plea  that  it  was  impossible  or  that  it 
was  unreasonable.  It  is  only  in  religion  that  we  hear 
that  it  is  unreasonable,  and  that  it  is  beyond  a  man's 
power.  But  why  should  it  be  there  more  than  elsewhere  ? 
Why  easy  any  where  else  ;  why  impossible  there  ?  The 
answer  is  simple.  It  is,  that  men  wish  to  find  an  excuse 
for  not  repenting ;  and  regardless  of  any  reflections  on  the 
character  of  their  Maker,  rather  than  forsake  their  sins, 
they  charge  him  with  requiring  that  which  is  impossible, 
and  coolly  say  that  they  have  no  power  to  obey  his  com- 
mands. Every  where  else  it  is  easy  in  their  view  to  re- 
pent, here  they  say  it  is  impossible,  and  is  only  to  be  done 
by  the  Almighty  power  of  God. 

4.  It  is  the  sinner  who  is  to  repent.  It  is  not  God  who 
is  to  repent  for  him — for  God  has  done  no  wrong.  It  is 
not  the  Saviour  who  is  to  repent  for  him — for  he  has  vio- 
lated no  law.  It  is  not  the  Holy  Spirit  that  is  to  repent — 
for  how  can  that  blessed  Agent  feel  sorrow,  and  why 
should  he  ?  My  impenitent  friend,  it  is  your  own  mind 
that  is  to  repent ;  your  own  heart  that  is  to  feel  regret ; 
your  own  feet  that  are  to  be  turned  from  the  evil  way; 
your  own  lips  that  are  to  make  confession.  I  know  that 
if  ever  done  it  will  be  by  the  aid  of  God  the  Holy  Ghost; 
but  I  know  also  that  you  are  yourself  to  be  the  peni- 
tent, and  that  this  is  a  work  that  cannot  be  done  by 
another.  That  very  heart  that  has  sinned  must  feel; 
those  very  eyes  that  have  looked  with  delight  on  forbid- 
den objects  must  weep ;  and  those  lips  that  have  been 
false,  profane,  or  impure,  must  make  confession.  I  will 
add  here,  that  God  is  willing  to  impart  to  you  all  the 
grace  which  is  needful  to  enable  you  to  repent  if  you  are 
willing,  for  he  has  "  exalted  Christ  Jesus  to  give  repent- 
ance and  the  remission  of  sins."  With  his  offered  and 
promised  grace  you  can  never  allege  before  him  that  re- 
pentance was  wholly  put  beyond  your  power. 

5.  Finally,  it  is  right  and  proper  to  call  on  men  to  re- 
pent of  their  sins.  If  they  repent  when  they  have  wronged 
a  friend,  or  violated  the  laws  of  a  parent ;  if  repentance  is 


REPENTANCE.  147 

an  operation  of  mind  with  which  all  are  familiar ;  if  it  is 
not  beyond  the  proper  reach  of  the  human  faculties ;  and 
if  the  sinner  himself  is  actually  to  feel  sorrow  and  make 
confession,  and  if  you  have  in  fact  violated  the  law  of 
God,  then  it  is  right  to  call  on  you  to  repent  at  once. — 
This  command,  then,  I  lay  across  your  path  to-day,  and 
call  on  you  to  repent  of  all  your  sins,  and  to  make  con- 
fession unto  God.  It  is  a  command  reasonable,  proper, 
easy,  imperative ; — and  I  end  as  I  began  by  saying  that 
it  is  as  positive  as  any  other  in  the  Bible:  that  it  is  simple 
and  easily  understood  ;  that  it  is  addressed  to  all,  and  that 
there  are  no  exceptions  made  in  favor  of  the  great,  the 
learned,  the  honored,  the  gay,  the  amiable,  the  moral. 
We  shall  all  alike  die ;  and  when  we  come  to  die  it  will 
be  one  of  the  sincerest  wishes  of  our  souls  that  we  had 
honestly  yielded  obedience  to  all  the  commands  of  God; 
one  of  the  sincerest  wishes  of  our  hearts  that  we  had  con- 
fessed and  forsaken  our  sins  before  we  were  called  to 
stand  at  the  awful  bar  of  our  final  Judge. 


SERMON  X. 

SALVATION    EASY. 
Matthew  xi.  30.     My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light. 

All  religion,  like  virtue  of  all  kinds,  implies  restraint. 
The  Saviour  did  not  come  to  institute  a  religion  that 
would  be  without  law,  or  that  would  give  vmrestrained 
indulgence  to  the  passions.  He  did  not  come  to  esta- 
blish a  religion  where  there  would  be  no  burden  to  be 
borne,  no  cross  to  be  taken  up.  He  speaks,  therefore, 
in  the  text,  of  his  religion  as  a  'yoke' — the  emblem 
of  restraint ;  of  a  *  burden' — the  emblem  of  obhgation, 
implying  that  there  were  duties  to  be  discharged  and  con- 
ditions of  salvation  to  be  complied  with.  But  he  says 
that  the  one  was  '  easy,'  the  other  '  light.'  Compared 
with  the  heavy  yoke  of  Jewish  rites  and  ceremonies, 
(Acts  XV.  10  ;)  compared  with  the  oppressive  burdens  of 
the  heathen  systems  of  religion  every  where  ;  and  com- 
pared with  tlie  yoke  which  fashion,  and  ambition,  and 
corrupt  passions  impose  on  their  votaries  every  where, 
the  yoke  which  he  required  his  followers  to  bear  was 
easy,  and  the  burden  light.  It  was  not  a  hard  thing  to 
be  a  Christian ;  it  was  not  difficult  to  be  saved.  In  illus- 
trating this  truth,  my  object  will  be, 

I.  To  show  that  salvation  is  easy  ;  and 

II.  To  show  why  it  is  so. 

I.  Salvation  is  made  easy  for  mankind. 

I  know  that  this  proposition  is  one  that  will  not  be  con- 
ceded to  be  true  by  all  men.  It  stands  opposed  to  many 
feelings  of  the  human  heart,  as  well  as  to  some  senti- 
ments maintained  by  a  part  of  the  Christian  world.  It 
is  not  introduced  here  for  controversy,  nor  will  my  dis- 
cussion of  it  be  pursued  for  purposes  of  debate,  but  with 
reference  to  some  prevalent/ee/m^^  in  the  minds  of  men. 
It  is  felt  by  many  to  whom  we  preach,  that  salvation  is 
difficult,  or  wholly  impracticable  for  them.  The  feeling 
assumes  a  great  variety  of  forms,  for  the  existence  of 
which  we  have  only  to  appeal  to  your  consciousness.    It 

148 


SALVATION    EASY.  143. 

is  felt  by  some  that  God  has  provided  no  salvation  for  a 
large  part  of  the  human  family ;  or  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
strives  with  only  a  part  of  the  race  ;  or  that  God  is  insin- 
cere in  his  offers  of  salvation  ;  or  that  he  has  determined 
by  unalterable  decree  those  who  shall,  and  those  who 
shall  not  be  saved  ;  or  that  man  has  no  power  to  repent 
or  believe,  and  that  should  he  put  forth  all  possible  efforts, 
they  would  be  utterly  fruitless.  At  one  time  an  impene- 
trable obscurity  seems  to  rest  on  the  whole  subject  of 
religion,  and  the  mind  of  the  sinner  is  in  thick  darkness  ; 
at  another  he  feels  that  his  sins  are  so  strong  that  he  has 
no  power  to  overcome  them ;  at  another  that  some  in- 
visible power  thwarts  all  his  efforts  and  blasts  all  his 
purposes ;  and  at  another  that  salvation  resembles  some 
object  in  heaven  to  be  brought  down  like  bringing  Christ 
again  from  the  skies,  or  is  like  crossing  the  mighty  deep 
to  seek  for  it  on  a  pilgrimage  in  the  dreariness  of  a  dis- 
tant land.  It  is  this  feeling  which  I  wish  to  meet  in  de- 
fence of  the  proposition  derived  from  our  text,  that  sal- 
vation is  easy.  There  are  three  considerations  which  I 
trust  will  make  it  clear  ;  or  three  sources  of  argument  to 
which  I  shall  refer  you. 

(1.)  The  first  is,  that  such  is  the  express  testimony  of 
the  Bible.  To  this  I  appeal  as  perfectly  plain  on  the 
point,  and  as  meeting  all  the  difficulties  which  are  felt  in 
the  case.  I  appeal  to  the  following  passage,  the  very 
design  of  which  is  to  state  this  truth  with  the  utmost  ex- 
plicitness.  "  The  righteousness  which  is  of  faith,"  or  the 
plan  of  salvation  in  the  gospel,  "  speaketh  in  this  wise, 
say  not  in  thine  heart,  who  shall  ascend  into  heaven  ? 
that  is,  to  bring  Christ  down  from  above  ;  or,  who  shall 
descend  into  the  deep  ?  that  is,  to  bring  up  Christ  again 
from  the  dead.  But  what  saith  it  ?  The  word  is  nigh 
tliee,  even  in  thy  mouth  and  in  thy  heart,  that  is,  the 
word  of  faith  which  we  preach ;  that  if  thou  shalt  con- 
fess with  thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  shalt  believe  in 
thy  heart  that  God  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead,  thou 
shalt  be  saved."  Rom.  x.  6 — 9.  The  meaning  is,  the 
Christian  religion  does  not  require  us  to  ascend  into  heaven 
— to  perform  an  impossible  work  like  going  up  to  the 
throne  of  God,  and  bringing  the  Mediator  down.  It  does 
not  require  us  to  go  into  the  abyss,  the  grave,  the  regions  of 

12^ 


150  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

departed  souls,  and  perform  a  work  like  raising  a  man 
from  the  dead.  It  demands  an  easier  task — one  that  lies 
within  the  proper  exercise  of  human  power.  It  demands, 
says  Paul,  simply  a  confession  with  the  mouth  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  and  a  belief  in  the  heart  that  God  raised  him 
from  the  dead.  And  is  this  all,  and  is  it  then  an  erroneous 
inference,  that  Paul  meant  to  teach  that  salvation  is  easy; 
that  it  demands  no  impracticable  thing,  and  nothing  which 
lies  beyond  the  proper  compass  of  human  responsibi- 
lity ? 

I  appeal,  in  further  confirmation  of  this  position,  to 
the  following  plain  declarations  of  the  Bible.  "  Ho,  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters ;  and  he  that 
hath  no  money ;  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy 
wine  and  milk  without  money,  and  without  price.  In- 
cline your  ear,  and  come  unto  me  ;  hear,  and  your  soul 
shall  live  ;  and  I  will  make  an  everlasting  covenant  with 
you,  even  the  sure  mercies  of  David."  Isa.  Iv.  1.  3. — 
Is  it  impossible  to  incline  the  ear  and  hear  ?  To  come  and 
buy  ? — "  Behold,"  said  the  Saviour,  "  I  stand  at  the  door 
and  knock  :  if  any  man  will  hear  my  voice,  and  open 
the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him  and  sup  with  him,  and  he 
with  me."  Rev.  iii.  20. — Is  it  impossible  for  a  man  to 
open  his  door  for  a  friend,  or  for  a  stranger  ?  "  And 
the  Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  come.  And  let  him  that 
heareth  say,  come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst,  come  : 
and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  Me  freely.-^ 
Rev.  xxii.  17. — Is  it  impossible  for  the  thirsty  to  drink 
at  a  running  fountain  ?  "  Come  unto  me,"  said  the 
Redeemer,  "  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden  and 
I  will  give  you  rest.  My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  bur- 
den is  light."  Matth.  xi.  28—30.  "  In  the  last  day,  the 
great  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried,  saying.  If 
any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink."  John 
vii.  37.  These  passages,  it  will  at  once  occur  to  you,  are 
but  a  specimen  of  the  language  of  the  Scripture  on  the 
subject,  and  the  meaning  of  such  language  cannot  be 
mistaken.  It  is  as  far  as  possible  from  any  representa- 
tion that  the  provisions  of  salvation  are  limited  in  their 
nature  or  design  ;  or  that  man  is  incapacitated  from  em- 
bracing the  offer  ;  or  that  there  are,  from  any  cause  what- 
ever, insuperable  obstacles  to  his  salvation.     If  there  are 


SALVATION    EASY.  151 

passages  in  the  Scripture  which  speak  of  difficulties  and 
obstacles  of  any  kind  to  the  salvation  of  men — as  there 
are,  undoubtedly — they  are  such  as  refer  to  obstacles  on 
the  part  of  tnan,  and  not  on  the  part  of  God;  obstacles 
which  the  sinner  has  himself  formed,  and  not  those  which 
arise  from  any  want  of  fulness  in  the  provisions  which 
God  has  made,  or  any  want  of  willingness  on  his  part  to 
save  the  soul. 

(2.)  The  second  consideration  to  which  I  refer  for 
proof  on  this  point  is,  that  the  difficulties  which  did  exist 
in  regard  to  salvation,  and  which  man  could  not  have 
overcome,  have  all  been  taken  away  by  the  plan  of  sal- 
vation. A  specification  of  a  few  of  these  difficulties  will 
illustrate  the  idea  which  I  now  present.  One  of  these 
obstacles  related  to  pardon.  Man  had  sinned.  And  yet 
it  is  manifest  that  he  could  not  be  self-pardoned,  nor  could 
he  be  pardoned  by  a  fellow  man,  nor  by  the  highest 
angel.  It  was  only  the  being  whose  law  had  been  vio- 
lated, and  who  had  been  offended,  that  could  extend  for- 
giveness. A  neighbor  cannot  pardon  your  child  who  has 
done  wrong  to  you ;  nor  can  a  foreign  government  par- 
don a  traitor  to  his  country ;  nor  can  a  murderer  pardon 
himself.  The  solution  of  the  question  whether  the  of- 
fender could  or  could  not  be  pardoned  under  the  divine 
government,  was  one  that  was  lodged  in  the  bosom  of 
God,  and  over  which  man  had  no  control.  Pardon 
could  not  be  extorted — for  man  had  no  power  to  do  this ; 
it  could  not  be  demanded — for  then  it  would  not  be  par- 
don, but  justice  ;  it  could  not  be  purchased  by  gold  or 
pearls — for  of  what  value  are  they  to  the  Creator  of  all 
things ;  it  could  not  be  procured  by  penance,  and  self- 
inflicted  pains — for  what  merit  is  there  in  uncommended 
self-torture  ?  Yet  all  this  difficulty  has  been  removed. 
What  all  the  gold  and  diamonds  of  the  East  could  not 
purchase,  has  been  offered  as  a  free  gift  to  all.  None  are 
so  poor  that  they  may  not  procure  it ;  none  are  so  guilty 
that  it  may  not  be  freely  bestowed  upon  them.  A  kin- 
dred difficulty  related  to  the  atonement.  It  was  just  as 
true  that  man  could  make  no  atonement  for  his  sins,  as 
it  was  that  he  could  not  of  himself  secure  pardon.  Nor 
had  he  any  thing  which  he  could  offer  as  an  expiation 
for  the  past.    "  Will  the  Lord  be  pleased  with  thousands 


152  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  rams,  or  with  ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil  ?  Shall  I 
give  my  first-born  for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of  my 
body  for  the  sin  of  my  soul  ?"  Mic.  vi.  7.  Man  had 
nothing  which  could  be  a  compensation,  or  an  atonement 
for  his  past  sins  ;  and  after  all  the  efforts,  the  costly  obla- 
tions, the  gorgeous  ceremonials,  and  the  bloody  sacrifices, 
and  the  painful  penances  of  the  pagan  world,  man  is  just 
as  far  from  having  made  any  suitable  atonement,  as  he 
was  when  Cain  brought  his  uncommended  and  unac- 
ceptable offering  to  the  offended  Creator.  And  it  would 
have  been  so  to  the  end  of  time.  Unless  man  could  do 
something,  or  offer  something  that  would  repair  the 
evils  of  apostacy,  how  could  he  make  an  atonement  for 
his  sins  ?  But  this  difficulty  has  been  removed.  An 
ample  atonement  has  been  made.  There  is  no  more  that 
needs  to  be  done  ;  and  there  is  no  more  that  can  be  done. 
The  atonement  is  sufficient  in  its  nature  for  all  men.  The 
death  of  Christ  is  declared  to  be  the  "  propitiation  for  the 
sins  of  the  whole  world.''  It  is  expressly  affirmed  that 
he  "  died  for  all"  ;  that  he  "  tasted  death  for  every  man." 
Nothing  on  this  subject  remains  to  be  desired  ;  and  no 
man  can  now  approach  God  feeling  that  there  is  the 
slightest  difficulty  in  the  way  of  his  salvation  from  any 
want  of  sufficiency  in  the  provisions  of  the  atonement ; 
any  want  of  willingness  in  the  Redeemer  to  save  him ;  or 
any  want  of  efficacy  in  his  blood  to  cleanse  from  all  sin.  It 
is  impossible  for  the  human  mind  to  conceive  that  there 
should  be  a  more  complete  and  entire  removal  of  all  ob- 
stacles in  any  case,  or  in  relation  to  any  subject  whatever, 
than  has  occurred  in  regard  to  the  plan  of  the  atonement 
through  Jesus  Christ.  Again — there  was  a  difficulty  also 
in  regard  to  the  love  of  sin.  It  was  certain  that  while 
man  had  all  the  requisite  power  to  do  the  will  of  God,  he 
never  would  of  himself  yield  to  his  claims,  and  forsake 
his  transgressions.  He  was  so  alienated  from  God,  that 
that  alienation  would  have  forever  prevented  his  return 
to  God,  even  had  there  been  no  other  obstacle.  But  God 
has  met  this  difficulty  also.  What  man  would  not  do,  he 
has  provided  the  means  of  his  accomplishing.  To  the 
sinner,  sensible  of  the  deep  corruption  of  his  own  nature, 
he  has  granted  the  Holy  Spirit,  for  the  very  purpose  of 


SALVATION    EASY.  153 

enabling  him  to  overcome  his  love  of  sin,  and  of  turning 
him  to  God.  And  there  is  not  a  depraved  propensity  of 
his  nature  which  the  Spirit  of  God  cannot  subdue  ;  not  an 
unholy  affection  which  he  cannot  remove  ;  not  a  corrupt 
desire  which  he  cannot  obUterate  forever. 

God  has,  in  this  manner,  met  all  the  obstacles  which 
stood  in  the  way  of  salvation.  He  has  designed  that  every 
thing  on  his  part  that  can  be  regarded  as  a  difficulty, 
should  be  removed;  and  that  he  should  himself  be  able 
to  approach  men  with  the  assurance  that  so  far  as  he 
was  concerned,  there  should  be  no  obstacle  to  per- 
fect and  eternal  reconciliation.  He  has  devised  a  plan 
through  which  he  can  consistently  offer  full  pardon,  and 
so  that  he  will  be  as  fully  glorified  in  the  salvation  as  in 
the  condemnation  of  the  sinner.  He  has  gone  even  be- 
yond this,  and  has  met  man  on  his  own  side  of  the  diffi- 
culty, and  furnished  him  with  the  means  of  overcoming 
the  sinfulness  of  the  heart  itself.  The  case  is  like  this. 
When  two  of  your  neighbors  are  engaged  in  a  contro- 
versy which  has  been  long  continued,  you  gain  much  if 
you  can  go  to  the  party  that  has  done  the  wrong,  and 
say,  '  Your  injured  neighbor  is  willing  to  be  reconciled. 
Every  difficulty  which  had  existed  in  his  mind  has  been 
removed,  and  he  now  desires  to  be  at  peace.  By  great 
self-denial  and  sacrifice,  though  without  compromitting 
his  own  dignity  or  honor,  he  has  removed  all  the  obsta- 
cles which  subsisted  to  perfect  harmony,  and  he  is  now 
desirous  of  walking  with  you  in  the  bonds  of  unity  and 
concord.^  So  God  approaches  every  impenitent  man. 
With  the  assurance  that  all  the  obstacles  on  Ms  part  have 
been  removed,  he  comes  and  offers  life.  He  proclaims 
that  every  thing  which  man  could  not  have  done  in  this 
case,  but  which  was  needful  to  be  done,  has  been  accom- 
plished, and  that  all  that  remains  for  the  sinner  is  easy, 
and  may  be  and  should  be  performed. 

(3.)  The  third  consideration  in  support  of  my  position 
is,  that  the  terms  of  salvation  are  the  most  simple  that 
they  possibly  could  be.  It  is  not  only  true  that  God  has 
removed  all  the  obstacles  which  existed  on  his  part  to 
salvation,  but  it  is  also  true  that  he  has  made  the  condi- 
tions as  easy  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive  them  to  be. 


154  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

These  terms  are  repeated  often  in  the  Bible.  "  He  that 
believeth  and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved."  "  If  thou 
shalt  confess  with  thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  shalt 
believe  in  thy  heart  that  God  raised  him  from  the  dead, 
thou  shalt  be  saved."  "With  the  heart,"  Paul  adds, 
"  man  believeth  unto  righteousness,"  i.  e.  unto  justifica- 
tion, or  in  connection  with  believing  he  becomes  justi- 
fied ;  "  and  with  the  mouth  confession"  i.  e.  profession 
"  is  made  unto  salvation  ;"  and  the  sense  of  the  whole 
is,  that  simple  reliance  on  the  Lord  Jesus  in  the  heart, 
and  a  suitable  acknowledgment  of  him  before  men  will 
be  crowned  with  everlasting  salvation.  Now  the  remark 
is  obvious,  that  these  terms  are  as  simple  and  as  easy  as 
it  is  possible  to  conceive  aiiT/  terms  to  be.  If  man  him- 
self were  to  choose  his  own  terms  of  salvation,  he  could 
not  select  any  more  easy  than  God  has  himself  appointed. 
It  is  not  gold  which  he  demands ;  it  is  not  a  costly  offer- 
ing ;  it  is  not  painful  penance  ;  it  is  not  stripes,  or  impri- 
sonment, or  a  pilgrimage  to  a  distant  land.  It  is  an  act 
of  simple  confidence  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  a  suitable  ac- 
knowledgment of  him  before  the  world  at  large.  And 
that  man  himself  could  not  ask  more  simple  and  easy 
terms,  is  apparent  from  the  fact  that  when  left  to  his  own 
way,  he  has  uniformly  chosen  some  method  infinitely 
more  painful  and  self-denying  than  the  gospel  requires. 
He  seeks  salvation  by  costly  offerings  and  bloody  rites , 
by  painful  fastings  and  penances  ;  by  scourging,  and  tor- 
ture, and  self-inflicted  woes  ;  by  pilgrimages  over  barren 
rocks  and  burning  sands  to  some  distant  shrine  of  his 
idol  god ;  but  no  where  has  man  ever  thought  of  a  plan 
of  salvation  requiring  so  little  personal  sacrifice,  and  so 
little  that  is  painful  as  the  Christian  plan.  This  stands 
alone,  as  admirable  for  the  ease  of  compliance  with  it, 
as  for  the  simplicity  of  its  aim.  It  requires  no  impracti- 
cable thing.  It  is  simply  demanding  that  that  should  be 
exercised  towards  God  our  Saviour  which  is  every  day 
exercised  towards  men.  We  exercise  confidence  every 
day  in  a  father,  a  mother,  a  neighbor,  a  civil  ruler ;  in  a 
bank,  a  mercantile  house,  a  book,  and  a  promise  ;  and 
God  demands  that  similar  confidence  should  be  reposed 
in  him,  and  in  that  Redeemer  whom  he  hath  sent.  The 
reasonableness  of  this  is  not  the  object  of  our  present  re- 


SALVATION    EAST.  155 

search.  It  is  the  fact  to  which  I  am  referring,  and  the 
remark  is,  that  in  a  scheme  of  salvation  nothing  more 
simple  than  this  could  be  conceived ;  and  that  God  could 
not  possibly  require  less.  When  a  child  has  rebelled 
against  his  father,  can  that  father  do  less  than  require 
proofs  of  returning  confidence  in  him  before  he  can  re- 
admit him  to  favor  ?  When  a  professed  friend  has  injured 
you  in  every  way  possible,  can  you  do  less  than  to  de- 
mand proofs  of  returning  confidence  before  you  can  treat 
him  as  a  friend  ?  Can  there  be  any  friendship,  any  union, 
unless  that  confidence  shall  be  restored  ? 

I  regard,  therefore,  the  proposition  as  one  that  is  unde- 
niable, that  salvation  is  made  as  easy  by  God  as  possible  ; 
and  that  the  terms  are  as  simple  and  as  practicable  as  can 
be  conceived. 

II.  My  second  object  is,  to  enquire  why  he  has  done 
so,  or  why  he  has  selected  the  simple  conditions  to  which 
I  have  referred,  as  those  by  which  we  may  be  saved. 

It  is  undeniable,  that  it  is  on  account  of  the  very  sim- 
plicity of  this  plan  that  multitudes  reject  it.  Had  it  been 
attended  with  greater  difficulties  ;  had  it  required  penance, 
and  toil,  and  pilgrimages,  it  would  have  excited  much 
greater  interest  in  the  minds  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
world.  This  is  proved  conclusively  from  the  fact  that 
the  most  painful  and  degrading  of  the  heathen  religions 
excite  deeper  interest  among  their  votaries  than  the  Chris- 
tian scheme  does  in  a  nominally  Christian  community. 
Every  pagan  is  devoted  to  his  religion,  and  holds  all  that 
he  possesses  as  at  the  disposal  of  his  gods ;  nor  does  he 
deem  any  sacrifice  too  great,  any  penance  too  severe,  any 
pilgrimage  too  long,  if  he  may  secure  the  favor  of  the 
fancied  god.  In  a  large  portion  of  the  community,  how- 
ever, where  the  gospel  is  preached,  it  excites  no  emotion, 
and  prompts  to  no  effort  to  secure  an  interest  in  it.  By 
multitudes  it  is  regarded  as  deserving  contempt ;  by  mul- 
titudes with  hatred  and  indignation.  It  is  still  to  one 
class  a  stumbling-block,  to  another  foolishness.  One  rea- 
son undoubtedly  is,  the  very  ease  of  its  terms ;  the  fact 
that  it  appeals  to  all  men  as  on  a  level ;  that  it  contem- 
plates the  salvation  of  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  bond 
and  the  free,  the  master  and  the  slave,  on  the  same  con- 
ditions, and  all  as  without  personal  merit,  and  all  as  to 


156  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

be  saved  by  mere  favor,  without  money  and  without 
price.  My  wish  is  now  to  state  some  reasons  why  God 
has  appointed  salvation  on  conditions  so  simple  and  easy. 

(1.)  One  is,  that  the  design  of  bestowing  salvation  on 
all  classes  of  men,  demanded  of  necessity  some  plan  that 
was  plain  to  be  understood,  and  that  was  easy  to  be  com- 
plied with.  The  mass  of  men  are  poor,  and  ignorant, 
and  debased.  They  have  no  gold  to  offer — if  gold  were 
of  value  in  obtaining  heaven ;  they  are  incapable  of  long 
and  painful  pilgrimages — if  pilgrimages  would  be  of  any 
avail.  If  a  scheme  of  religion  is  adapted  to  our  race,  it 
must  be  fitted  to  the  poor,  the  needy,  the  slave,  the  igno- 
rant, and  the  wretched.  It  must  be  so  easy  that  even 
children  could  appreciate  and  comprehend  its  essential  ele- 
ments. And  this  was  and  ought  to  have  been  the  object. 
It  was  not  to  save  the  rich  only,  and  philosophers  only, 
and  the  great  only — for  their  souls  are  of  no  more  value 
than  the  souls  of  others ;  but  it  was  to  save  men  deeply 
depraved,  and  ignorant,  and  degraded.  Besides,  the  de- 
sign of  religion  is  not  to  go  to  those  who  are  already 
elevated  and  happy,  but  to  go  down  to  the  poor,  the 
beggar,  and  the  slave,  to  elevate  them  to  the  skies. 

The  religion  of  the  gospel,  therefore,  contemplated  as 
a  leading  purpose,  what  has  not  been  attempted,  or  if 
attempted,  what  has  been  unsuccessful  in  other  systems. 
Its  design  was  to  elevate  and  save  the  mass  of  men,  and 
at  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  way,  to  save  the  more 
learned  and  refined  of  the  race.  It  entered  on  the  before 
untried  task  of  adapting  itself  to  the  most  degraded  and 
vile  of  the  human  family ;  and  at  the  same  time  of  pre- 
senting such  truths  as  should  expand  and  sanctify  the 
most  profound  intellects  on  earth,  and  be  fitted  to  the 
largest  views  which  the  human  mind  can  form.  And  it 
is  done.  It  has  truths  which  are  fitted  to  excite  the 
amazement  of  the  most  lofty  intellects,  and  into  which 
the  angels  desire  to  look ;  truths  over  which  Bacon  and 
Newton  bowed  with  the  most  profound  reverence  ;  and 
it  is  at  the  same  time  so  simple  that  it  is  understood  in  its 
mean  features  in  the  Sunday-school,  and  can  communi- 
cate its  saving  messages  to  the  beggar  that  lies  at  the 
gate.  All  may  be  saved  by  it ;  and  the  lofty  intellect  of 
the  one  class  will  feel  that  it  is  elevated  by  the  gospel  as 


SALVATION    EASY.  157 

well  as  the  feeble  powers  of  the  other ;  the  large  heart 
of  the  one  will  feel  that  the  gospel  is  as  much  fitted  to 
promote  its  sanctification  as  it  is  to  promote  the  eternal 
purity  of  the  other  ;  and  the  farthest  extremes  of  the 
human  family  are  met  by  that  simple  and  pure  system 
which  requires  as  its  great  conditions  repentance  toward 
God  and  faith  in  Christ  Jesus. 

(2.)  The  system  \s  designed  to  humble  men,  and  was 
on  that  account  made  so  simple  and  plain.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that  it  is  fitted  to  bring  down  the  intellect  and  the 
heart  of  man.  .  To  be  saved  by  mere  favor  ;  to  enter 
heaven  by  special  grace ;  to  be  saved  by  the  mere  exer- 
cise of  faith,  without  merit  and  without  claim,  is  deeply 
abasing  to  the  pride  of  man.  God  intended  that  it  should 
be  so,  and  one  purpose  of  the  plan  was  to  "  stain  the 
pride  of  all  human  glory."  Hence  the  gospel  pays  tri- 
bute to  no  rank,  wealth,  learning,  or  power.  It  seeks  out 
no  palace  as  its  residence — and  is  as  much  at  home  in  the 
cottage  as  in  the  most  magnificent  dwelling.  It  reveals  no 
royal  path  to  heaven.  It  saves  no  man  because  he  is 
clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen.  It  comes  into  no  dwell- 
ing because  it  is  splendidly  decorated,  and  garnished  ; 
and  it  offers  bliss  to  no  one  because  he  is  attended  by  a 
splendid  train  of  menials,  or  because  men  do  him  ho- 
mage. It  saves  no  one  because  he  is  beautiful,  or  be- 
cause he  is  strong,  or  because  he  is  learned,  or  because 
he  is  honored.  It  does  not  refuse  to  save  them  ;  but  it 
ofttimes  passes  by  their  abodes,  and  finds  its  home  in  the 
humble  dwelling  of  the  poor. 

Is  it  not  right  that  this  should  be  so  ?  What  is  there  in 
tliat  beauty  that  will  soon  become  the  prey  of  corruption 
and  banquet  of  worms,  that  should  constitute  a  claim  to 
salvation  ?  Is  it  more  comely  than  the  lily  or  the  blushing 
rose  that  soon  decays  ?  What  is  there  in  that  splendid 
mansion  that  should  attract  the  presence  of  the  God  who 
dwells  in  light  inaccessible,  and  who  is  encompassed  with 
the  glory  of  heaven  ?  What  is  there  in  that  pride  of  rank 
and  office  that  should  attract  the  great  and  eternal  God 
to  bestow  his  peculiar  favors  there  ?  What  is  there  in  the 
amusements  and  plans  of  the  gay  and  the  rich,  that  should 
induce  the  God  of  heaven  to  accommodate  his  plans  to 
their  caprice,  and  bend  his  schemes  to  their  pleasure  ? 

14 


15S  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Nothing.  But  there  may  be  much,  very  much  there,  that 
shall  demand  just  such  a  humbling  system  as  the  gospel 
— a  system  that  shall  level  all  that  pride,  and  bring  the 
gay  and  self-confident  sinner  to  the  dust.  Does  not  the 
original  taint  of  our  fallen  nature  as  deeply  pervade  his 
heart  as  the  heart  of  the  obscurest  man  ?  Is  not  the  gay 
and  fashionable,  the  rich  and  learned  sinner  as  deeply 
sunk  in  depravity  as  the  rest  of  his  fellow-mortals  ?  Has 
he  not  a  heart  as  offensive  to  God  as  they  have  who  are 
in  humble  life  ?  Will  not  a  few  years  bring  that  beauty 
and  strength  as  low  as  the  most  degraded  of  the  species  ? 
Will  not  the  worm  feed  as  sweetly  on  all  that  comeliness 
as  on  the  most  down-trodden  of  the  race  ?  And  is  it  not 
well,  is  it  not  indispensable,  that  the  system  of  religion 
should  meet  all  this  pride,  and  bring  all  this  lofty-mind- 
edness  low  in  the  dust  ?  Men  in  their  great  interests  are 
on  a  level,  and  Christianity  simply  recognizes  this  fact. 
Their  food,  their  raiment,  their  health,  their  vigor,  are  all 
given  by  the  same  God.  The  same  blood  flows  in  their 
veins  ;  they  have  the  same  pains  and  sicknesses  when  on 
a  bed  of  disease  ;  they  are  partakers  of  the  same  depra- 
vity ;  they  lie  side  by  side  in  the  same  bed  of  earth,  and 
moulder  back  to  dust  together.  Why  should  not  the  sys- 
tem of  religion  be  framed  as  if  this  were  so,  and  be  so 
humiliating  as  to  reduce  the  pride  of  all,  and  yet  so  ele- 
vating as  to  raise  all  to  the  hopes  of  the  same  heaven, 
and  fill  all  alike  with  wonder  at  their  own  real  dignity 
as  immortal  beings,  and  at  the  condescension  of  the  infi- 
nite God  ? 

(3.)  God  has  made  the  system  so  simple  and  so  easy, 
because  the  terms  which  he  proposes  are  just  fitted  to 
meet  all  the  evils  of  the  world. 

In  the  l^ible  he  has  m3.de/aifh  indispensable,  aiid  has 
attached  an  unspeakable  importance  to  it.  "  Fie  that 
believeth  and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved  ;  and  he  that 
believeth  not  shall  be  damned.''  Two  or  three  remarks 
will  show  why  God  has  selected  this,  and  has  made  its 
exercise  the  indispensable  condition  of  salvation.  One 
is,  that  the  true  source  of  all  evil  to  man  is  a  want  of 
confidence,  in  his  Creator — a  want  of  confidence  in  his 
promises,  his  law,  his  claims,  his  threatenings,  his  qualifi- 
cations for  universal  empire.  This  want  of  confidence  in 


SALVATION'    EASY.  159 

God  has  produced  the  same  evils  in  his  administration 
wliicli  it  does  any  where.  A  want  of  confidence  between 
a  husband  and  wife  annihilates  their  happiness,  and  turns 
their  once  peaceful  dwelling  into  a  hell ;  a  want  of  con- 
fidence between  parents  and  children  is  the  end  of  order 
and  government ;  a  want  of  confidence  in  a  friend,  a 
physician,  a  lawyer,  or  a  pastor,  is  the  parent  of  distress 
and  wo  ;  a  want  of  confidence  in  a  commercial  commu- 
nity is  an  end  of  prosperity.  And  so  it  is  in  the  govern- 
ment of  God.  jNIan  is  wretched  only  Ijccause  lie  lias  no 
confidence  in  his  Creator.  He  does  not  worshij)  him  as 
God ;  he  does  not  believe  that  lie  is  wise ;  he  does  not 
go  to  him  in  trouble  ;  he  does  not  rely  on  his  promises ; 
he  docs  not  seek  him  in  time  of  distress,  he  does  not  trust 
him  in  death.  Now  the  only  thing  needful  to  make  this 
a  happy  world,  with  all  its  sicknesses  and  sadnesses,  is 
to  restore  confidence  in  God.  This  would  meet  all  the 
evils  of  the  apostasy,  and  would  compose  the  agitated 
human  bosom  to  peace — like  oil  on  troubled  waves.  It 
will  have  just  the  effect  under  the  divine  government 
which  it  will  have  in  a  family,  if  you  restore  confidence 
to  the  alienated  affections  of  husband  and  wife  ;  and  in 
a  conmiunity,  if  you  restore  universal  confidence  between 
man  and  man.  Another  reason  why  this  is  required  is, 
that  God  could  require  no  less  of  man.  In  a  plan  of  sal- 
vation intended  to  be  adapted  to  all  the  race,  that  was  the 
lowest  possible  demand,  as  we  have  already  seen  that  it 
is  the  simplest  and  most  easy.  Could  God  admit  alien- 
ated creatures  to  himself  on  any  other  condition  than  that 
they  should  have  confidence  in  him  ?  Could  he  admit 
those  to  heaven — to  dwell  with  him,  to  range  the  fields 
of  glory,  to  encompass  his  throne — who  had  no  reliance 
in  his  qualifications  for  universal  empire  ?  Can  you  ad- 
mit the  man  who  has  been  your  professed  friend,  but  who 
has  slandered  and  injured  you,  again  to  your  friendship, 
without  evidence  of  returning  confidence  and  regard  ? 
Can  a  parent  admit  a  rebellious  and  ungrateful  child 
again  to  the  fulness  of  his  affection  and  to  his  family,  if 
he  has  no  evidence  of  returning  confidence  ?  God,  there- 
fore, requires /«z7 A  in  him,  because  he  could  require  no 
less.  It  is  the  lowest  possible  condition.  And  for  a  simi- 
lar reason,  he  requires  that  that  faith  should  be  avowed. 


160  PRACTICAL    SERMOXS. 

"With  the  mouth  confession  is  made  unto  salvation." 
The  want  of  confidence  has  been  open.  The  injury  has 
been  public.  The  hfe  of  a  sinner  has  not  been  passed  in 
a  corner.  It  is  public ;  it  is  known  ;  it  is  seen.  The 
want  of  confidence  in  God  here  on  earth  is  known  above 
the  stars ;  and  wherever  there  is  returning  confidence,  it 
should  be  avowed,  and  the  restored  sinner  should  be  de- 
sirous that  his  return  to  God  should  be  as  widely  known 
as  his  apostasy  has  been.  When  a  man  has  calumniated 
you  publicly,  it  will  not  do  for  him  to  come  and  confess 
it  to  you  alone,  and  in  the  dark.  He  has  done  you  public 
wrong,  and  the  confession  should  be  public,  too.  The 
sinner  should  be  willing,  therefore,  that  all  worlds  shall 
be  apprized  of  his  return,  and  seek  that  throughout  the 
universe  it  shall  be  proclaimed  that  he  has  confidence  in 
the  Creator.  Thus  he  will  not  only  believe  in  his  heart 
on  the  Lord  Jesus,  but  will  confess  him  with  his  mouth, 
and  desire  that  the  universe  shall  be  acquainted  with  his 
repentance  and  return. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  show  that  the  plan  of  sal- 
vation is  the  most  simple  and  easy  that  man  could  con- 
ceive or  desire,  and  that  it  is  proposed  to  man  on  the 
lowest  possible  terms,  and  on  the  terms  wiiich  were  in- 
dispensable in  a  design  to  save  the  world.  There  are 
some  inferences  followhig  from  the  subject  to  which  I 
now  ask  your  attention  for  a  moment. 

1.  One  is,  the  necessity  of  a  profession  of  religion. 
The  view  of  the  Lord  Jesus  on  this  subject  has  been  ex- 
pressed without  any  ambiguity.  -'^  Whosoever  shall  con- 
fess me  before  men,  him  will  I  confess  also  before  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven.  But  whosoever  shall  deny 
me  before  men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my  Fatlier 
which  is  in  heaven."  Matth.  x.  32,  33.  And  this  ap- 
pointment is  not  arbitrary.  Its  propriety  and  reasonable- 
ness are  obvious.  Why  should  a  man  enter  heaven  who 
is  unwilling  to  acknowledge  God  his  Saviour  in  all  the 
proper  ways  on  earth  ?  Why  should  he  hope  for  appro- 
bation or  reward  who  seeks  to  hide  his  light  under  a 
bushel,  and  is  ashamed  to  have  it  understood  that  he 
loves  God?  How  can  he  expect  the  divine  favor,  ah 
whose  influence  is  with  the  world,  and  who  habitually 
neglects,  or  deliberately  refuses  to  obey  a  positive  com- 


SALVATION    EASY.  161 

mand  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  And  how  can  he  infer 
that  he  has  any  love  to  God,  who  is  never  wilhng  to 
avow  it ;  how  can  he  have  any  true  dependence  on  the 
Saviour  who  is  unwilUng  to  recognize  it ;  how  can  he 
have  any  sympathy  with  him  who  is  unwilUng  to  take 
up  his  cross,  and  to  suffer  shame  and  reproach,  if  need  be, 
in  his  cause?  God,  therefore,  has  put  this  subject  just 
where  all  other  things  are  put.  And  as  we  infer  tliat  a 
man  has  no  friendship  for  us  whose  name  and  influence 
are  with  our  enemies,  and  who  never  ranks  himself  with 
us ;  as  we  infer  that  a  man  has  no  love  of  country  who 
prefers  that  his  name  should  be  enrolled  among  her  ene- 
mies, and  who  never  comes  forth  to  fight  her  battles,  or 
to  advance  her  cause,  so  are  we  not  to  infer  the  same 
thing  respecting  the  great  truths  and  duties  of  religion  ? 
Every  man  who  truly  loves  the  Lord  Jesus  is  required  in 
a  proper  way  to  express  that  love ;  every  man  who  does 
not  in  the  proper  way  express  that  love,  gives  evidence 
that  it  has  no  existence  in  his  heart. 

(2.)  We  learn  from  our  subject  that  men  have  no  ex- 
cuse if  they  are  not  Christians,  and  are  not  saved.  We 
have  seen  that  that  salvation  is  proposed  on  the  simplest 
terms  possible,  and  on  the  lowest  conditions  on  which 
God  could  offer  it  to  guilty  men.  And  no  one  can  doubt 
this  fact  who  ever  looked  at  the  scheme.  Nor  can  any 
one  doubt  it  who  contemplates  what  it  has  done.  Thou- 
sands and  tens  of  thousands  of  the  poor,  the  illiterate,  the 
despised ;  thousands  of  children,  as  v*^ell  as  of  the  rich 
and  the  great,  have  embraced  it,  and  been  saved.  But 
if  this  is  so,  then  man  is  without  excuse.  Had  it  been  a 
scheme  fitted  to  an  intellect  above  that  of  man,  then  he 
could  not  have  been  under  obligation  to  embrace  it.  Had 
it  recpiired  us  to  do  a  work  like  raising  the  dead,  or  cre- 
ating a  world,  then  man  would  have  been  free  from  blan  <? 
if  he  did  not  embrace  it.  And  in  like  manner,  if  God 
had  required  all  to  go  on  a  pilgrimage  to  a  distant  land ; 
or  all  to  purchase  salvation  with  gold,  how  few  of  the 
race  could  have  availed  themselves  of  the  privilege,  and 
been  saved ! 

And  thus,  too,  if  it  were  dependent  on  any  other  im- 
possibility, or  any  thing  beyond  the  powers  and  capa- 
bilities of  man,  he  would  have  been  innocent  in  respecting 

14* 


162  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

it.  Nay,  he  would  not  only  have  been  innocent  in  reject- 
ing it,  but  would  have  been  required  to  reject  it.  But 
none  of  tliese  things  can  be  pretended.  It  is  as  simple  as 
it  can  be  ;  so  plain  that  he  that  runs  may  read  ;  as  wide 
in  its  offers  as  the  world ;  and  it  is  offered  to  men  on  the 
lowest  possible  conditions.  The  simplest  thing  imagina- 
ble is  all  that  is  required  to  be  saved.  "  Look  unto  me 
and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth."  "  Whosoever 
shall  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved."  What 
can  man  ask  more  than  this  ?  What  terms  more  easy, 
more  feasible,  more  merciful,  more  just  ?  And  what  ex- 
cuse will  be  rendered  in  the  last  day  if  these  terms  are 
rejected,  and  if  the  soul  shall  be  lost  ?  Who  will  be  to 
blame  for  the  destruction  of  the  soul  ?  Who,  if  eternal 
ruin  is  brought  down  on  our  heads,  and  we  sink  down  to 
wo  ?  What  can  man  say  in  the  day  of  judgment,  if  he 
will  not  ask  for  pardon  ?  Why  should  he  not  be  lost  if  he 
will  not  do  it  ? 

(3.)  Finally.  I  may  state  in  one  word  the  true  reason 
which  operates  on  many  minds  to  prevent  their  being 
Christians.  A  nobleman  of  the  East,  rich  and  honored 
at  a  magnificent  court,  was  affected  with  the  leprosy. 
He  heard,  by  a  servant  girl,  of  a  celebrated  prophet.  He 
went  to  him.  "  Go,"  said  the  man  of  God,  "  and  wash 
seven  times  in  Jordan,  and  thou  shalt  be  healed.  And  he 
turned  away  in  a  rage."  "  Lo,  I  thought,"  said  he,  "  he 
will  surely  come  out  to  me,  and  stand  and  call  on  the 
name  of  Jehovah  his  God,  and  strike  his  hand  over  the 
place,  and  recover  the  leper.  Are  not  Abana  and  Phar- 
par,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all  the  waters  of 
Israel  ?  May  I  not  wash  in  them  and  be  clean  ?"  2  Kings 
V.  II,  12.  To  man,  proud  even  in  the  deep  leprosy  of 
sin,  God  also  sends  a  message  of  mercy.  '  Go,'  is  his 
language,  ^  to  the  man  of  Nazareth.  Go  to  the  cross.  Go, 
without  money  and  without  price  ;  go,  poor,  and  weary, 
and  heavy  laden,  and  penitent.  Go  not  on  a  pilgrimage ; 
go  not -with  pomp  and  parade;  go  not  with  your  gold 
and  your  honors  ;  go  not  depending  on  your  rank,  or 
your  deeds  of  righteousness ;  go  with  the  beggar  and  the 
slave.  Go,  and  lie  down  beneath  the  cross  with  the  most 
degraded  of  the  human  race,  a  lost,  wretched,  ruined, 
leprous  man  ;  go,  and  receive  life  as  the  mere  gift  of  God, 


SALVATION    EASY.  163 

and  render  to  the  bleeding  victim  on  the  tree  all  the  praise 
of  your  redemption.'  And  0  when  this  is  said,  in  how 
many  hearts  does  the  spirit  of  the  proud  yet  leprous 
Assyrian  rise  ;  and  the  lip  curls  with  scorn,  and  the  brow 
is  knit  with  anger,  and  the  sinner  turns  away  in  a  rage. 

<  Am  I  thus  to  be  saved  ?'  is  the  language  of  his  heart. 

<  Rather  let  me  die.'  And  he  dies — and  sinks  to  wo, 
because  it  was  too  easy  to  he  saved  ! 


SERMON  XI. 

THE    PRINCIPLES    ON    WHICH    A    PROFESSION    OF    RELIGION 
SHOULD    BE    MADE.       NO.    I. 

II.  Cor,  vi.  17.  18.  Wherefore  come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye 
separate,  saith  the  Lord,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing;  and  I  will  re- 
ceive you,  and  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and 
daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty. 

This  passage  of  Scripture  is  an  address  to  Christians, 
and  states  the  principles  on  which  they  should  act  in  re- 
ference to  the  world.  It  demands  a  separation  from  the 
world ;  and  it  contains  the  assurance  that  if  such  a  sepa- 
ration exists,  God  will  be  their  father,  and  that  they  shall 
sustain  to,  him  the  relation  of  adopted  children. 

My  wish,  at  this  time,  is,  not  however  to  apply  it  to 
Christians  in  general,  but  to  the  first  public  act  of  a 
Christian's  life — the  act  of  making  a  profession  of  religion. 
That,  emphatically,  is  an  act  of  coming  out  from  the 
world ;  an  act  of  separating  ourselves  from  others  ;  an  act 
by  which  we  express  our  purpose  not  to  "  touch  the  un- 
clean thing" ;  an  act  by  which  we  publicly  declare  our 
purpose  to  live  as  becomes  "  sons  or  daughters  of  the 
Lord  Ahuighty."  The  doctrine  which  it  will  be  the  main 
object  of  this  discourse  to  defend,  is,  that  a  profession  of 
religion  implies  a  separation  from  the  world,  and  a  pur- 
pose to  lead  a  life  of  holiness ;  and  my  aim  will  be  to  de- 
rive from  the  New  Testament  the  principles  on  which 
such  a  profession  should  be  made. 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  man  to  make  a  profession  of  re- 
Ugion.  It  would  be  easy  to  make  this  apparent  if  it  were 
necessary  to  the  design  of  this  discourse.  Nothing  can  be 
more  evident  than  that  every  man  should  profess  to  be 
the  friend  of  the  one  only  God  who  made  him,  and  of  the 
Redeemer  who  died  to  save  him.  But  this  obligation  to 
profess  religion  supposes  a  previous  obligation  to  embrace 
it,  and  to  become  a  sincere  Christian.  It  supposes  that 
164 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  165 

there  should  be  certain  quaUfications  in  order  that  it  may 
be  done  in  a  manner  that  will  be  acceptable  to  God. 

The  importance  of  just  views  on  this  subject  will  be 
apparent  from  two  considerations.     One  is,  that  a  pro- 
fession of  religion  is  one  of  the  most  important  steps  in  a 
man's  life.     Its  vows  are  sacred ;  its  results  such  as  must 
deeply  affect  his  destiny.   Henceforward  he  will  be  recog- 
nised as  a  professed  friend  of  God,  and  stand  before  the 
world  as  a  public  witness  of  the  truth  and  a  candidate 
for  immortal  glory.    A  part  of  the  obligation  of  evincing 
the  nature  of  true  religion,  and  of  defending  and  extend- 
ing it,  will  rest  on  him ;  and  to  him  the  world  will  look 
as  an  example  of  what  religion  is  designed  to  be.     The 
other  consideration  showing  the  importance  of  just  views 
in  making  a  profession  of  religion,  is,  that  his  whole 
Christian  character  and  usefulness  will  probably  depend 
on  the  feelings  with  which   he   enters  the  church.     It 
is  undoubtedly  a  fact,  that  of  those  who  become  pro- 
fessing Christians,  scarce  one  in  five  contributes  much 
to  its  real  strength.     Some   have  very  limited  means  of 
usefulness.     Some  are  scarcely  fitted,  either  from  want 
of  talent  or  education,  to  do  good  at  all  except  in  the  very 
narrowest  circles.     But  of  those  who  do  not  labor  under 
these  disqualifications,  the  number  of  those  who  are  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  the  church ;  who  are  the  bold  and  un- 
flinching advocates  of  the  truth  ;  who  sustain  the  prayer 
meetings  and  the  institutions  of  benevolence  ;  who  can  be 
depended  on  when  a  tide  of  worldliness  and  vanity  comes 
in  upon  the  church  ;  who  labor  with  a  zeal  that  never 
tires,  and  an  ardor  that  never  cools  to  save  souls  from 
death,  is  comparatively  very  few.    Part  are  zealous  for  a 
time,  and  then  their  zeal  dies  away  like  "  the  morning 
cloud  and  the  early  dew."    Part  are  characteristically  in- 
dolent, and  bring  no  active  energy  to  the  cause  of  Chris- 
tianity.    Part  become  soon  conformed  to  the  world,  and 
are  better  known  there  than  in  the  church.    Part  become 
immersed  in  political  strifes,  and  their  influence  as  Chris- 
tians expires  of  course.    Part  become  rich,  and  are  intro- 
duced into  new  circles  of  life,  and  their  first  attachment 
to  the   church  becomes  chilled  and   cold.     Part   form 
new  connections  in  life,  and  their  ardor  languishes,  and 
they  thus  show  that  whatever  there  might  have  been 


166  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  zeal  at  any  time  was  the  result  of  circumstances  rather 
than^f  principle.  Part  take  their  complexion  in  religion 
like  the  chameleon,  from  the  objects  and  associates  around 
them — are  zealous  when  they  are  zealous ;  benevolent 
when  they  are  benevolent ;  lukewarm  when  they  are 
lukewarm ;  and  worldly  when  they  are  conformed  to  the 
world.  A  large  portion,  we  have  reason  to  apprehend, 
have  very  slight  views  of  the  principles  involved  in  the 
organization  of  the  church ;  and  some  are  strangers  to  re- 
ligion altogether. 

So  deeply  impressed  was  the  Saviour  with  considera- 
tions like  these,  that  with  great  solemnity  he  at  one  time 
asked  the  question,  "  when  the  son  of  man  cometh  shall 
he  find  faith  on  the  earth?"  Luke  xviii.  S.  Should  he 
come  now,  what  measure  of  faith  in  his  promises,  in  his 
truth,  in  his  religion,  in  his  laws  would  he  find?  I 
desire  this  day  to  stand  before  you,  and  apprise  you  of 
what  is  involved  in  making  a  profession  of  religion ; 
and  while  I  would  offer  every  encouragement  to  the 
humble  and  the  contrite  to  come,  it  is  also  a  duty  from 
which  you  would  not  desire  me  to  swerve  to  lay  down 
the  principles  on  which  the  New  Testament  requires  that 
a  profession  of  religion  should  be  made,  without  any  de- 
parture from  their  high  import.     To  that  I  now  proceed. 

I.  There  should  be  true  conversion  to  God.  In  other 
words,  he  who  makes  a  profession  of  religion  should  be 
a  sincere  Christian.  He  should  not  merely  be  a  serious 
minded  man ;  a  sober,  moral,  amiable  man  ;  or  a  man 
speculatively  holding  the  truth,  but  he  should  be  a  re- 
newed man.  He  should  not  merely  be  an  awakened  or 
convicted  sinner ;  he  should  not  merely  be  anxious  to  he 
a  Christian,  but  he  should  be  in  fact  a  true  Christian.  He 
should  not  enter  the  church  with  a  desire  to  he  converted 
at  the  communion,  or  at  any  future  time,  but  he  should 
be  in  fact  already  converted.  He  should  not  enter  the 
church  expecting  to  be  in  some  mysterious  way  there 
prepared  for  heaven,  but  having  evidence  that  he  is  now 
prepared  for  heaven,  and  that  if  he  should  die  before  he 
had  an  opportunity  to  partake  of  the  communion,  imper- 
fect as  he  may  feel  that  he  is,  he  would  be  admitted  to 
glory. 

I  am  thus  particular  in  stating  this  point  because  of  its 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  167 

great  importance,  and  because  it  is  vital  to  all  the  views 
which  I  shall  yet  state.  The  church  of  Christ  is  a  church 
of  true  converts^  not  of  those  to  he  converted.  It  is  de- 
signed to  be  an  assemblage  of  real  Christians ;  and  not 
of  those  who,  for  various  reasons,  may  desire  to  become 
Christians. 

You  will  appreciate  the  importance  of  this  remark 
when  you  reflect  on  the  inducements  which  exist  to  enter 
the  church  without  any  evidence  of  piety.  One  of  the 
prevalent  errors  of  these  times,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  in 
all  churches,  is  the  desire  for  numbers  rather  than  for 
piety ;  the  wish  to  swell  the  catalogue  of  church  members 
rather  than  to  augment  the  solid  piety  and  the  real  strength 
of  the  household  of  faith.  To  this  tiiere  are  often  a  great 
many  temptations;  and  there  is  reason  to  apprehend  that 
not  a  few  are  persuaded  to  make  a  profession  of  religion 
who  are  altogether  strangers  to  its  natnre.  There  is  the 
love  of  numbers  itself— the  desire  of  recording  accessions 
at  every  communion — a  desire  right  in  itself  if  intended 
to  glority  Christianity,  but  which  also  may  be  mere  sel- 
fishness and  vanity.  In  all  associations  of  men,  civil,  po- 
litical, literary,  and  religious,  there  is  to  be  found  the 
operation  of  this  principle — the  mere  desire  of  numerical 
strength,  rather  than  the  strength  which  is  derived  from 
principle,  and  from  solid  worth.  There  is  often,  also,  the 
vanity  of  a  minister  of  religion  desiring  public  evidence 
of  success  arising  from  the  fact  that  many  join  his  com- 
munion, and  leading  him  to  persuade  them  to  connect 
themselves  with  the  church  even  when  they  give  most 
slender  evidence  of  qualification,  or  it  may  be,  no  evi- 
dence at  all.  There  is  also  the  anxiet}^  of  friends-.  ,;•  A 
Christian  parent  feels  a  deep  anxiety  for  his  children,  and 
urges  them  to  connect  themselves  with  the  church  ;  a 
husband  feels  an  earnest  solicitude  for  a  wife,  or  a  wife 
for  a  husband;  a  sister  for  a  brother,  or  a  friend  for  a  friend^ 
and  there  is  a  feeling  operating  very  secretly  and  very 
subtilly  that  if  they  are  in  the  church  they  are  safe.  It  is 
needless  to  add  that  many  may  enter  the  church  under  the 
influence  of  strong  temporary  feeling,  self-deluded,  or 
with  a  vague  kind  of  expectation  that  they  may  somehow 
be  converted  in  the  church. 

There  are  not  many  men  who  are  intentionally  hypo- 


168  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

crites  either  in  the  clmrch  or  in  the  world.  That  there 
may  have  been  some  in  the  church,  none  can  doubt ;  and 
that  there  are  some  such  men  in  all  associations,  no  one 
has  any  reason  to  disbelieve.  Wherever  an  object  is  to 
be  gained  of  sufficient  value  in  the  view  of  men  to  over- 
come their  sense  of  honesty  and  of  truth,  men  will  play 
the  hypocrite ;  and  thus  sometimes,  but  rarely,  they  enter 
the  church ;  and  thus  too  they  attach  themselves  to  a  po- 
litical party,  or  make  professions  of  honesty  to  which  they 
know  they  are  strangers. 

But  that  there  are  those  in  the  church  who  are  stran- 
gers to  religion  no  one  can  doubt  who  remembers  that 
there  was  a  Judas  among  the  Apostles ;  an  Ananias,  and 
Sapphira,  a  Simon  Magus,  and  a  Demas  among  the  early 
disciples ;  who  remembers  the  parable  of  the  tares  of  the 
field;  who  remembers  the  declaration  of  Paul,  "Many 
walk  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often  and  now  tell  you 
even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of 
Christianity;"  who  remembers  the  epistle  which  the 
Saviour  directed  to  be  sent  to  the  seven  churches  of  Asia  ; 
or  who  looks  into  any  Christian  church  of  any  denomi- 
nation, and  sees  how  little  many  professed  Christians, 
even  in  external  form,  exemplify  the  religion  of  the  Re- 
deemer. 

My  position  is,  that  no  one  should  enter  the  Christian 
church  who  is  not  a  sincere  Christian ;  a  converted  man ; 
a  sinner  born  again ;  in  other  words,  who  has  not  evi- 
dence of  personal  piety  which  will  not  only  bear  the  test 
of  an  examination  before  the  pastor  and  officers  of  the 
church,  but  before  the  Master  himself,  and  at  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  God.  No  one  should  enter  the  church  who 
would  not  enter  heaven  should  he  die  ;  no  one  who  is  not 
as  certainly  prepared  to  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac, 
and  Jacob,  in  the  realms  of  glory,  as  he  is  to  sit  down  with 
his  friends  at  the  table  of  communion. 

My  proof  of  this  position  is,  in  few  words,  this  :  (1.)  It 
is  implied  in  the  very  nature  of  a  profession.  What  is  a 
profession  ?  It  is  a  profession  of  something — of  what  ? 
Is  it  not  profession  of  love  to  God ;  of  dependence  on  Jesus 
Christ ;  of  attachment  to  the  Redeemer  and  his  cause  ;  of 
a  purpose  to  lead  a  Christian  life  ?  And  where  this  exists, 
does  it  not  constitute  religion  ?     It  is  a  confession  of  sin  \ 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  169 

an  acknowledgment  of  guilt,  and  folly,  and  former  errors 
and  crimes ;  and  is  not  this  a  part  of  religion  ?  It  is  a 
profession  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  of  a  purpose  to 
live  according  to  its  requirements ;  and  is  not  this  a  part 
of  religion  ?  It  is  not  a  profession  of  a  purpose  to  be  a 
Christian  at  some  future  time ;  it  is  a  public  recognition 
of  those  feelings  and  doctrines  which  constitute  religion 
itself  A  man  professes  to  be  a  moral  man.  What  is  the 
meaning  of  this?  Is  it  that,  though  now  immoral,  he 
means  to  become  moral  hereafter?  He  professes  to  be  a  pa- 
triot. Is  the  sense  of  this  that  he  designs  to  become  a  friend 
of  his  country  at  some  future  time  ?  No.  This  is  not  his 
meaning.  But  it  is  that  he  is  now  a  moral  man,  and  a 
lover  of  his  country.  So  when  a  man  professes  religion, 
it  is  a  public  and  solemn  declaration  that,  according  to  the 
best  of  his  knowledge  and  beUef,  he  has  religion,  that  he 
is  born  again,  and  has  truly  repented  of  his  sins.  Such  is 
the  obvious  interpretation  of  the  act ;  so  it  is  understood 
by  the  world.  It  is  a  public  declaration  made  over  the 
slain  body  and  shed  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  according 
to  the  most  candid  and  prayerful  view  which  he  can  take 
of  the  subject  he  is  a  true  Christian,  and  wishes  to  be  re- 
cognised as  such.  So  the  world  interprets  it ;  so  the  Bible ; 
so  God.  (2.)  The  Bible  so  speaks  of  it.  Christ  every  where 
speaks  of  a  profession  of  religion  as  confessing  him  before 
men.  "  Whosoever  shall  confess  me  before  men,  him  will 
I  also  confess  before  my  Father  in  heaven."  Matth.  x.  32. 
Luke  xii.  8.  But  to  confess  Christ  is  to  confess  him  as  a 
Saviour,  a  Redeemer ;  an  example  ; — to  profess  a  pur- 
pose to  be  saved  by  him,  to  follow  him,  to  obey  him.  (3.) 
Again.  The  Lord's  Supper  is  not  designed  or  adapted  to 
be  a  converting  ordinance.  A  man  sits  down  at  the  table 
of  communion.  What  is  the  design  of  it?  Is  it  that  he 
may  be  converted  ?  Was  Judas  converted  at  that  table? 
This  is  not  its  design.  It  is  solely  to  comm,eniorate  what 
Christ  has  done,  and  to  bring  impressively  before  the  mind 
the  great  events  of  his  death.  "  Do  this  in  remembrance 
of  me,"  is  the  command ;  and  this  implies  that  there  is 
already  such  an  attachment  to  him  as  to  make  such  a 
commemoration  proper.  Do  we  institute  memorials  for 
the  purpose  of  creating  an  attachment  to  those  whom  we 
despise,  or  hate  ?    Is  not  the  very  object  of  a  memento  to 

15 


170  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

recall  the  image  of  one  whom  we  love  ;  to  deepen  attach- 
ment, to  bind  us  more  strongly  to  him  or  to  his  memory. 
The  ring  which  we  wear  on  the  finger,  or  the  hair  of  a 
friend  that  we  preserve  in  a  locket,  is  not  to  create  love 
for  that  friend,  but  it  is  to  bring  it  to  remembrance  and  to 
perpetuate  it.  (4.)  I  advert  to  one  other  consideration 
which  can  never  be  urged  too  frequently.  It  is  that  few 
or  none  are  ever  converted  who  enter  the  church.  This 
fact  is  one  that  is  familiar  to  all  who  ever  made  any  ob- 
servation ;  and  the  philosophy  of  the  fact  is  as  apparent 
as  the  fact  itself  A  deceived  person  once  in  the  church 
feels  that  he  is  safe.  Preaching  adapted  to  convert  the 
impenitent  he  never  applies  to  himself,  for  he  is  a  mem- 
ber of  the  church,  and  he  wards  off  all  these  appeals.— 
No  one  can  go  to  him  in  private  and  address  him  person- 
ally as  an  impenitent  man,  for  he  would  resist  it  as  an 
affront.  And  there  is  another  fact  as  undeniable  as  it  is 
remarkable.  It  is,  that  appeals  made  in  the  sanctuary, 
and  designed  for  him  never  reach  him.  Cautions  and 
entreaties  on  the  subject  of  self-deception ;  tender  expos- 
tulations designed  for  him,  pass  by  him  unheeded.  Some 
humble,  pious,  timid,  prayhig,  conscientious  Christian 
shall  apply  all  these  appeals  to  himself,  and  be  deeply 
distressed,  while  the  cold,  and  formal,  and  deceived  pro- 
fessor shall  perhaps  be  asleep  in  the  sanctuary,  or  shall 
deem  it  strange  that  the  pastor  can  be  so  uncharitable 
as  to  suppose  that  any  members  of  his  flock  can  be  prac- 
tising deception  on  themselves  or  their  fellow-men. 

II.  The  second  principle  on  which  a  profession  of  reli- 
gion should  be  made  is,  that  there  should  be  in  fact,  as 
there  is  in  form,  a  separation  from  the  luorld.  This  is 
the  very  command  of  the  text.  "  Come  out  from  among 
them,  and  be  ye  separate,  saith  the  Lord,  and  touch  not 
the  unclean  thing."  The  word  "  them"  in  the  text — come 
out  from  among  them — refers  to  the  persons  mentioned 
in  the  context — to  the  worshippers  of  idols,  to  the  impure, 
to  unbelievers.  No  one  can  doubt  that  the  meaning  of 
Paul  is,  that  Christians  should  regard  themselves  as  a  pe- 
culiar people ;  and  that  a  distinct  and  definite  line  should 
be  drawn  between  them  and  their  fellow-men.  It  would 
be  easy  to  multiply  texts  of  Scripture  to  almost  any  extent 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  171 

inculcating  the  same  idea.  The  following  passages  will 
set  before  you  the  current  strain  of  the  Scripture  doctrine 
on  this  subject.  "  Be  not  conformed  to  tliis  world."  Ro- 
mans xii.  2.  *•■  Love  not  the  world,  neither  things  that  are 
in  the  world.  If  any  man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the 
Father  is  not  in  him.  For  all  that  is  in  the  world,  the 
lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of 
life,  is  not  of  the  Father,  but  is  of  the  world."  1.  John  ii. 
16.  "  Ye  are  a  chosen  generation,  a  royal  priesthood,  an 
holy  nation,  a  peculiar  people."  1.  Pet.  ii.  9.  "  My  king- 
dom," said  the  Redeemer,  "is  not  of  this  world." 

Now  the  only  hope  of  restoring  these  solemn  commands 
of  Jesus  Christ  to  their  place  in  the  church  is  by  address- 
ing tliem,  even  perhaps  with  painful  reiteration,  to  those 
who  are  about  to  make  a  profession  of  religion.  There 
are  w^orldly  habits  in  the  church  itself  as  it  is  every  where 
constituted,  which  it  is  perhaps  impossible  to  eradicate. 
There  are  modes  of  living,  styles  of  dress  and  of  amuse- 
ment, and  schemes  of  gain  and  ambition,  whose  opposi- 
tion to  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  does  not  strike  us  with 
amazement  only  because  they  are  common.  But  we  may 
stand  at  the  portals  of  the  church  and  remind  those  who 
are  about  to  enter,  of  what  the  gospel  requires  at  their 
hands.  And  despite  of  all  that  you  may  now  see  in  the 
church,  I  lay  it  down  as  one  principle  that  is  to  guide  3^ou, 
that  you  are  not  to  be  "conformed  to  this  world."  Neither 
in  spirit,  in  opinion,  in  aim,  in  purpose,  in  amusement,  in 
object,  in  desire,  in  your  manner  of  hfe  are  you  to  be 
conformed  to  this  world.  You  are  to  feel  that  you  belong 
to  a  different  community,  are  imder  different  laws,  and 
have  different  objects.  You  are,  in  all  things  to  take  upon 
yourself  the  laws  of  Jesus  Christ;  and  if  in  all  honesty 
you  are  not  prepared  for  this,  you  are  not  prepared  to 
make  a  profession  of  religion. 

To  understand  this,  it  may  be  proper  to  make  a  few 
other  remarks.  The  grand  principle  in  the  Bible  is,  that 
on  earth  there  are  two  great  communities  which  are  sepa- 
rate in  their  organization,  their  purpose,  and  their  design. 
There  is  the  community  of  the  Christian  church,  em- 
bracing all  of  every  name  and  land  who  are  under  the 
laws  of  Christianity ;  and  there  is  that  great  community 
which  in  the  Bible  is  called  "  the  world."   The  latter  has 


172  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

its  own  laws,  and  purposes;  and  so  has  the  former. 
Though  mingled  together  in  the  same  nation,  neighbor- 
hood, or  family,  yet  they  are  radically  distinct.  Now  the 
act  of  making  a  profession  of  religion  is,  in  fact,  a  coming 
out  from  one,  and  becoming  identified  with  the  other  of 
these  independent  and  separate  communities.  From  this 
primary  principle  another  follows,  that  there  are  differ- 
ent laws,  purposes,  and  objects  in  these  two  entirely  dis- 
similar kingdoms.  The  peculiarity  of  the  one  is,  that  it 
is  governed  by  the  laws  of  God  as  revealed  in  the  Bible, 
and  as  sanctioned  and  enforced  by  conscience;  and  of  the 
other,  that  it  is  governed  by  the  laws  of  honor,  though 
they  lead  to  cold-blooded  and  deliberate  murder ;  of 
fashion — though  frivolous  and  foolish,  and  attended  with 
the  loss  of  the  soul ;  of  expediency  or  of  pleasure ;  of 
such  laws  as  shall,  in  their  apprehension,  be  best  fitted  to 
promote  the  ends  they  have  in  view — ostentation,  ambi- 
tion, honor,  or  wealth.  And  another  principle  follows 
from  this,  that  the  world  as  such  has  no  right  to  cross  the 
line,  and  to  give  law  to  the  members  of  the  church.  They 
are  under  the  laws  of  the  Bible  :  and  all  which  cannot  be 
defended  by  that  is  wrong. 

Now  what  I  have  to  say  is,  that  you  are  by  no  means 
prepared  to  connect  yourself  with  the  church,  unless  you 
are  ready,  effectually  and  finally,  to  bid  adieu  to  the  com- 
munity of  the  world  as  your  portion,  and  to  bring  your- 
self WHOLLY  under  the  laws  of  the  Bible.  If  there  is  a 
purpose  to  blend  the  two  together ;  if  there  is  an  expecta- 
tion to  be  as  gay  and  fashionable  as  the  world  ;  if  there  is 
a  desire  for  its  pleasures ;  if  there  is  an  intention  to  shape 
your  course  by  its  maxims  and  its  laws ;  if  you  are  not 
prepared  to  abandon,  and  to  feel,  that  though  you  are  in 
the  world  yet  you  are  not  "  of  the  world,"  then  you  are 
by  no  means  prepared  to  make  a  profession  of  religion. 
You  would  do  more  injury  in  the  church  than  you  would 
do  good  ;  and  your  name  had  better  be  where  your  heart 
and  your  influence  are. 

These  are  simple  principles,  and  if  applied  they  would 
guide  you  aright.  It  would  be  too  long  to  attempt  to 
carry  them  out ;  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  do  it.  The- 
principles  which  should  regulate  our  intercourse  with  the 
world  are  very  simple,  and  they  may  be  expressed  in  few 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  173 

words.  I  will  just  suggest  them.  (1.)  You  are  not  to  par- 
take  of  the  sins  of  the  world.  This  is  clear,  and  needs 
no  proof.  All  that  is  positively  evil,  and  only  evil,  and 
that  continually,  is  to  be  avoided  by  a  Christian.  Every 
thing  which  is  a  sinful  waste  of  time,  money,  influence, 
strength,  is  to  be  avoided.  What  wide  desolation  would 
this  simple  principle  make  even  in  the  practice  of  the 
members  of  the  church !  (2.)  You  are  not  to  partake  of 
the  amus&intnts  of  the  world  as  such.  I  mean  that  you 
are  not  to  originate  such  amusements ;  you  are  not  to 
countenance  them ;  you  are  not  to  partake  of  them.  You 
are  to  go  to  no  place  where  you  will  be  expected  to  lay 
aside  your  Christian  character.  Now  let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  over  parties  of  pleasure,  and  over  balls,  and 
over  all  similar  amusements,  the  ivorld  has  the  control. 
The  world  gives  laws.  The  world  dictates  the  conversa- 
tion. The  world  prescribes  the  dress,  the  hours,  the  ex- 
penses, the  manner  of  conversation.  Such  places  the 
Christian  cannot  control ;  and  when  he  goes  there  he  is 
expected  for  the  time  to  lay  aside  the  severity  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  to  conform  to  the  world.  Such  scenes  are 
not  arranged  in  accordance  with  the  New  Testament ; 
the  New  Testament  is  not  allowed  to  reign  there.  And 
it  becomes  a  plain  and  obvious  principle,  that  where 
a  professed  Christian  cannot  act  out  his  religion  ;  where 
lie  is  expected  to  lay  aside  his  Christian  character  for 
the  time  being;  where  he  cannot  without  a  violation 
of  the  rules  of  the  association,  or  the  company,  intro- 
duce his  own  principles,  and  dv/ell,  if  he  chooses,  on 
the  great  wonders  of  redemption,  his  place  is  not  there. 
(3.)  There  are  great  matters  of  entire  innocence  and 
propriety  in  which  the  Christian  can  act  in  common 
with  tliis  world — and  his  field  of  intercourse  with  them 
is  there.  Thus  there  are  the  common  interests  of  justice  ; 
of  learning  ;  of  agriculture  ;  of  civil  matters  ;  of  public  im- 
provements ;  of  a  neighbourhood  ;  of  a  nation  ; — !us  rights 
as  a  citizen  and  as  a  mai],  in  all  which  he  is  called  on  to 
act  in  connexion  with  the  people  of  the  Vv^orld.  Yet  in 
none  of  these  instances  is  he  to  act  in  any  way  inconsist- 
ent with  the  principles  of  ^e  most  rigid  Christian  morali- 
ty; and  even  in  these  things,  whatever  may  be  the  aim 

m 


174  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  Others,  his  aim  is  to  promote  the  honor  of  God  the 
Saviour. 

(4.)  We  are  to  associate  with  the  people  of  this  world 
so  far  as  we  can  do  them  good.  So  the  Saviour  associated 
with  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees ;  with  the  Sadducees  ani 
the  Publicans,  and  with  sinners.  So  on  the  Sabbath  he 
went  to  dine  with  a  Pharisee  ;  and  so  he  entered  the  house 
of  Zaccheus  the  Publican  to  bring  salvation  to  him  and 
his  family.  To  all  men  we  are  to  do  good  ;  and  to  this  end 
we  are  not  to  avoid  them,  or  to  say  to  them  "  stand  by 
thyself  for  I  am  holier  than  thou  ;"  nor  are  we  to  be  mo- 
rose, sour,  or  misanthropic ;  but  to  all  we  are  to  evince 
kindness  and  benevolence,  and  to  every  man  we  are  to 
do  all  the  good  that  God  may  put  in  our  power. 

Such  are  some  of  the  principles  which  are  to  regulate 
our  intercourse  with  this  world.  Such  the  principles,  I 
apprehend,  on  which,  if  you  come  aright,  you  will  come 
into  the  church.  And  if  these  are  not  your  principles, 
then  it  is  apparent  that  your  heart  is  with  the  world,  and 
with  your  present  feelings  you  should  not  make  a  pro- 
fession of  religion. 

III.  A  third  principle  is,  that  you  are  to  abandon  what- 
ever is  inconsistent  with  the  honest  purpose  to  be  a 
whole-hearted  Christian.  As  all  hope  of  being  understood 
here  arises  from  the  particularity  with  which  my  state- 
ments are  made,  I  shall  specify  a  few  particulars  showing 
what  I  mean.  The  general  principle  I  trust  will  not  be 
called  in  question,  that  a  man  who  comes  into  the  church 
is  to  abandon  whatever  is  wrong.  Assuming  this  as  in- 
disputable, I  observe  more  particularly,  that  you  are  to 
abandon  or  surrender, 

(1.)  The  supreme  love  of  property  or  money.  "Who- 
soever he  be  of  you,"  said  the  Master,  "  that  forsaketh 
not  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  Luke 
xiv.  33.  "  Ye  cannot,"  said  he,  "  serve  God  and  mam- 
mon." "  Covetousness,"  says  Paul,  "  is  idolatry  ;"  and 
an  idolater  has  no  inheritance  in  the  kingdom  of  God. — 
The  early  disciples  were  required  by  the  Redeemer  to 
forsake  all  that  they  had  and  to  follow  him  ;  and  the  early 
Christians  did  in  fact  give  up  all  that  they  had,  and  de- 
voted  all   to   the    Son   of  God.     Whatever   Paul   had 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  175 

of  property,  or  learning,  or  talent  that  was  valuable,  he 
was  ready  to  surrender  it  all  to  the  cause  of  the  Redeemer. 
(Phil.  iii.  7.  8.)  "  Yea,  doubtless,"  said  he,  "  I  count  all 
things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  Jesus  my  Lord."  God  now  requires  all  who 
come  into  the  church  as  honestly  to  consecrate  all  that 
they  have  to  him,  and  in  reference  to  their  property  as 
well  as  their  aims,  and  influence,  and  talent,  to  say  as 
Saul  of  Tarsus  did,  "  Lord  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to 
do  ?"  And  if  you  are  not  prepared  to  devote  your  pro- 
perty honestly  to  God,  to  be  sunk  in  the  ocean,  or  swept 
away  by  the  flame  if  he  pleases  ;  if  you  are  not  prepared 
to  impart  of  it  to  do  good  and  benefit  man ;  if  it  is  not  to  be 
your  great  aim  in  regard  to  that  to  do  just  what  God  re- 
quires, you  are  not  prepared  to  make  a  profession  of  re- 
ligion. 

(2.)  You  must  be  prepared  to  abandon  an  evil  course 
of  life.  This  is  evident.  What  I  wish  to  say  is,  that 
not  only  gross  vices  are  to  be  given  up,  but  all  forms 
of  evil.  Habits  of  gross  evil,  I  know,  are  easily  for- 
saken. But  all  that  is  false  and  evil  is  to  be  forsaken 
also.  Profaneness  is  not  only  to  be  forsaken,  but  false- 
hood and  deception  are  to  be  forsaken.  The  Christian  is 
to  be  a  man  of  strict  uncompromising  truth  and  honesty, 
no  matter  what  the  world  is.  If  the  people  of  the 
world  choose  to  deceive  in  the  prices  or  qualities  of  arti- 
cles of  trade  ;  if  they  do  not  deem  it  necessary  always  to 
adhere  to  their  promises ;  if  they  choose  to  say  they  are 
not  at  home  when  they  are  at  home,  still  the  Christian 
is  to  be  like  Jesus  Christ,  and  is  to  say,  or  instruct  others 
to  say  only  what  he  would.  And  unless  you  come  into 
the  church  prepared  to  be  a  man  of  uncompromising 
truth  and  integrity,  you  are  not  prepared  to  make  a  pro- 
fession of  religion.  No  matter  what  raptures  you  may 
have,  or  what  zeal,  or  what  spirit  of  prayer,  or  what  joy, 
the  Christian  is  to  be  an  honest  man,  and  if  he  is  not  an 
honest  man  all  his  supposed  evidences  of  piety,  are  hay 
and  stubble. 

(3.)  You  are  to  abandon  your  evil  companions.  If 
hitherto  your  chosen  friends  have  been  infidels  or  scoti'ers : 
.if  they  have  been  the  pleasure-loving  and  the  gay ;  if  they 


176  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

have  Deen  found  among  the  patrons  of  the  drama  or  the 
ball-room,  as  companions  they  are  now  to  be  forsaken, 
and  you  are  to  seek  and  find  your  associates  among  the 
disciples  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  You  are  to  come  and  say  to 
each  Christian  brother,  "  thy  people  shall  be  my  people, 
and  thy  God  my  God  ;  where  thou  diest,  will  I  die,  and 
there  will  I  be  buried."  Ruth  i.  16.  17.  You  are  to 
breathe  out  the  prayer  of  the  Psalmist.  "  Remember  me 
0  Lord  with  the  favor  which  thou  bearest  imto  thy  peo- 
ple." Ps.  cvi.  4.  You  are  to  regard  the  Christian  brother- 
hood as  your  chosen  companionship,  and  to  have  fellow- 
ship with  the  friends  of  your  days  of  sin,  only  in  the 
necessary  intercourse  of  relationship,  of  business,  or  to  do 
them  good.  If  this  subjects  yovi  to  their  hatred  or  their 
scorn,  it  is  to  be  borne,  and  if  you  cannot  bear  it,  it  proves 
that  you  have  no  true  love  to  the  Redeemer  and  his 
cause.  With  the  friends  of  Christ,  if  a  Christian,  you  will 
dwell  forever  in  a  world  where  there  is  no  revelry,  no 
worldly  pleasure ;  and  if  on  earth  you  decidedly  prefer 
the  society  of  the  worldly  and  the  gay  to  that  of  the 
humble  friends  of  Christ,  it  shows  where  the  heart  is  still, 
and  demonstrates  that  it  is  not  w4th  Christ.  How  is  he 
to  be  prepared  for  the  society  of  heaven  who  has  no  love 
for  the  fellowship  of  Christians  on  earth ;  who  prefers  a 
ball-room  to  a  prayer  meeting,  and  the  conversation  of 
the  gay  and  the  frivolous,  or  even  the  scientific  and  the 
literary,  to  conversation  about  the  glor}^  of  Christianity 
and  the  enjoyment  of  heaven  ? 

(4.)  You  should  come  prepared  to  give  up  even  your 
kindred,  and  forsake  them  for  Christ.  On  this  point  the 
Saviour  was  probably  more  explicit  than  on  almost  any 
other  requirement  of  his  religion.  "  If  any  man  come  to 
me,  and  hate  not  his  father,  and  mother,  and  wife,  and 
children,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life 
also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  Luke  xiv.  26.  "  He 
that  loveth  father  and  mother  more  than  me,  is  not  wor- 
thy of  me,  and  he  that  loveth  son  or  daughter  more  than 
me  is  not  worthy  of  me."  Matth.  x.  37.  On  one  occasion 
he  commanded  a  man  to  follow  him.  "  Suffer  me  first, 
said  he,  "to  go  and  bury  my  father."  "  Let  the  dead  bury 
the  dead,"  was  the  firm  reply  of  the  Redeemer,  "  but  go 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  177 

thou  and  preach  the  kingdom  of  God."  Luke  ix.  59.  60. 
He  demanded  the  strong  proof  which  would  thus  be 
shown  that  he  preferred  him  to  his  own  friends,  and  that 
he  was  willing  to  break  away  from  them  even  in  the 
most  tender  and  interesting  circumstances,  and  to  go 
where  he  required  him.  And  the  same  principle  is  de- 
manded now.  If  a  profession  of  religion  requires  you  to 
differ  in  opinion  from  father,  or  mother,  or  kindred,  it 
should  be  done.  If  it  requires  you  to  break  away  from 
their  pleasures ;  to  cease  to  accompany  them  to  the  places 
of  sin,  you  are  to  be  willing  to  make  the  sacrifice,  and  to 
separate  yourself  unto  God.  If  it  shall  demand  of  you  to 
forsake  your  country  and  home,  and  to  go  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth  to  make  him  known,  you  are  to  come  with  that 
feeling.  No  one  should  enter  the  Christian  church  who 
would  not  be  willing,  if  it  were  clearly  shown  to  him  to 
be  his  duty,  to  cross  oceans  to  proclaim  the  Saviour's 
name,  and  to  abandon  forever  all  the  comforts  of  his  fire- 
side and  his  home.  This  Christ  demanded  of  the  Apos- 
tles ;  and  this  he  demands  in  every  professor  of  religion. 
For  if  this  feeling  does  not  exist,  how  can  there  be  a  su- 
preme regard  to  the  will  of  Christ  ? 

(5.)  Allied  to  this,  you  should  be  willing  to  abandon 
any  calling,  however  honorable  and  lucrative  it  may  be, 
for  any  other  calling  where  you  can  do  more  good. — 
When  Saul  of  Tarsus  was  converted,  he  \vas  required  to 
give  up  his  plans  of  life  and  become  a  minister  of  the 
cross.  And  he  did  it  without  a  murmur.  So  it  must  be 
in  all  other  cases.  No  man  comes  into  the  church  with 
a  proper  spirit  who  is  not  prepared  to  abandon  any  call- 
ing if  Christ  requires  it,  and  if  he  can  do  more  good  in  a 
new  profession.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  his  present 
calling  is  not  unlawful,  and  that  he  may  be  useful  in 
that.  All  that  may  be.  But  the  grand  question  is, 
whether  in  that  he  can  do  more  to  honor  Christ  and 
save  the  world  than  in  another.  Remember  one  fact. 
God  often  converts  young  lawyers,  and  merchants,  and 
farmers,  and  physicians,  and  mechanics,  ybr  the  very 
purpose  of  making  them  ministers  of  the  gospel — as 
he  did  Saul  of  Tarsus;  and  he  expects  them  to  fulfil 
his  design  as  Saul  did,  by  becoming  heralds  of  salva- 


178  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

tion  to  a  dying  world.  If  he  is  not  prepared  to  do 
just  what  in  all  honesty  he  believes  Jesus  Christ  re- 
quires of  him,  he  is  not  prepared  to  make  a  profession 
of  religion. 

(6.)  One  remark  more  under  this  head.  If  you  are 
not  willing  to  abandon  any  calling  however  lucrative  it 
may  be  that  is  contrary  to  the  Bible  and  to  good  morals, 
you  should  not  dare  to  enter  the  church.  If  a  man  is 
converted  as  Paul  was,  pursuing  an  evil  manner  of  life, 
though  on  the  high  road  to  honor  and  perhaps  to  wealth, 
and  is  not  willing  to  abandon  his  course,  he  is  not  pre- 
pared to  make  a  profession  of  religion.  What  sort  of  a 
professor  of  religion  would  Paul  have  been,  if  he  had 
not  been  willing  to  give  up  the  business  of  persecu- 
tion ?  If  a  man  is  converted  who  is  a  slaveholder,  as 
John  Newton  was,  he  should  be  prepared  to  give  up  the 
business,  or  he  should  not  be  allowed  to  make  a  pro- 
fession of  religion.  Thus  far  all  is  clear.  How  is  it  now, 
under  the  operation  of  this  principle,  with  the  man  who 
is  engaged  in  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  ardent  spirits  ? 
In  ancient  Ephesus  there  were  men  who  practised  cu- 
rious arts,  and  were  devoted  to  it  as  a  business.  Under 
the  preaching  of  Paul  they  were  converted ;  and  one  of 
the  first  promptings  of  their  Christian  zeal  was  to  bring 
together  those  books,  and  burn  them  before  all  men  to 
the  amount  in  value  of  "  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver" — 
making  the  expression  of  their  abhorrence  at  their  former 
life  as  public  as  their  life  and  business  had  been.  There 
was  manifested  the  great  principle  for  which  I  contend 
— that  no  man  should  connect  himself  with  a  church, 
who  is  not  prepared,  at  any  sacrifice,  as  they  were,  to 
abandon  any  business,  however  lucrative,  which  is  evil, 
and  only  evil,  and  that  continually.  How  can  a  man  be 
a  Christian  who  is  not  prepared  to  make  such  a  sacrifice  ? 
And  why  should  he  seek  a  connexion  with  a  church  to 
pursue  his  course  of  life  under  the  sanction  of  the  Chris- 
tian name  ?  No.  The  church  needs  not  such  members  ; 
and  the  Saviour  never  designed  that  any  should  profess 
his  name  who  were  not  prepared  forever  to  forsake  all 
forms  of  evil  however  lucrative,  and  however  honorable 
in  the  esteem  of  the  world.  No  man  can  be  a  Christian  who 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  17§ 

pursues  a  calling  which  cannot  be  pursued  from  a  sincere 
desire  to  glorify  God;  and  no  man  should  enter  the 
church  who  is  not  prepared  to  sacrifice  his  profession,  and 
his  calling  if  it  be  a  scandal  and  a  disgrace  to  the  Chris- 
tian name. 


SERMON  XII. 

THE  PRINCIPLES  ON  WHICH  A  PROFESSION  OF  RELIGION 
SHOULD  BE  MADE.    NO.  2. 

2  Cor.  vi.  17,  18.  Wherefore  come  out  from  among  them,  and  be  ye 
separate,  saith  the  Lord,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing  ;  and  I  will  re- 
ceive you,  and  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and 
daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty. 

In  the  previous  discourse  I  stated  some  of  the  princi- 
ples on  which  a  profession  of  rehgion  should  be  made. 

I  propose  now  to  resume  the  subject,  and  to  state  some 
other  principles  which  should  direct  us  in  the  perform- 
ance of  this  duty. 

IV.  The  fourth  principle  is,  that  we  should  come  into 
the  church  with  a  fixed  and  settled  purpose  to  do  our 
whole  duty  as  it  may  be  made  known  to  us  by  God.  I 
mean  by  this,  that  we  should  not  flinch  from  any  duty, 
however  arduous ;  we  should  not  shrink  back  from  it 
because  it  will  demand  personal  sacrifice,  or  because  it 
will  bring  upon  us  the  scorn  or  the  opposition  of  the 
world,  or  because  it  may  be  attended  with  pecuniary 
loss,  or  because  it  may  expose  us  to  a  martyr's  death. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  attempt  to  prove  that  this  is 
involved  in  the  purpose  to  make  a  profession  of  religion. 
What  is  religion  ?  It  is  doing  the  will  of  God.  And  he 
who  professes  religion,  professes  his  solemn  purpose  to 
do  the  will  of  God,  and  not  his  own.  When  Saul  of 
Tarsus  was  converted,  one  of  the  first  questions  which  he 
asked  was,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  Acts 
ix.  6.  The  governing  purpose  of  his  soul  was  changed, 
and  it  became  henceforth  a  characteristic  of  the  man  that 
he  engaged  unceasingly  in  doing  the  will  of  God.  And 
how  is  it  possible  that  a  man  can  be  a  Christian  who  does 
not  ?  Can  he  be  a  Christian  who  enters  the  church  intend- 
ing to  do  his  duty  or  not,  as  he  pleases ;  resolving  to  be 
guided  by  caprice,  or  fashion,  or  self-indulgence,  or  am- 
bition, or  pleasure,  rather  than  by  the  solemn  convictions 

180 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  181 

of  duty  ?  Can  a  man  be  a  Christian  who  has  no  settled 
conviction  of  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong ;  who 
makes  no  distinction  between  truth  and  falsehood ;  who 
has  no  such  views  of  God's  government  as  to  lead  him 
to  submit  to  him  ?  Is  such  a  man  prepared  publicly  to 
profess  that  he  is  influenced  by  a  supreme  regard  to  the 
will  of  God  ?  To  ask  these  questions  is  to  answer  them. 
There  can  be  no  two  ways  of  thinking  about  them, 
however  many  ways  there  may  be  of  acting. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  attempting  to  demonstrate  what 
will  be  conceded  by  all,  I  shall  assume  that  a  man  who 
enters  the  church  not  intending  to  do  his  whole  duty,  has 
no  right  views  of  the  nature  of  the  Christian  profession. 
And  assuming  this,  I  shall  proceed  to  specify  some  of  the 
acknowledged  duties  which  will  be  incumbent  on  him. 

One  is,  to  repair,  as  far  as  possible,  the  evils  of  his  for- 
mer life.  Many  of  those  evils,  indeed,  cannot  now  be 
repaired.  If  a  man  has  been  a  blasphemer,  and  a  con- 
temner of  the  divine  commands,  he  can  make  no  repara- 
tion to  God.  His  only  course  in  respect  to  these  sins  is  to 
humble  himself  in  dust  and  ashes,  and  seek  for  pardon 
through  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer.  In  like  manner  for 
many  of  the  evils  which  he  has  done  to  men,  he  can 
now  make  no  reparation.  The  parent  whom  he  diso- 
beyed when  a  child  may  be  dead,  and  he  cannot  now 
ask  his  forgiveness,  or  repay  the  disregarded  and  abused 
kindness  of  the  father  or  the  mother.  The  neighbor 
whom  he  slandered,  or  whose  property  he  took  away 
by  fraud,  may  be  dead  also.  The  man  who  was  killed  by 
the  intoxicating  liquor  which  he  sold  may  be  dead,  and 
his  children,  impoverished  and  degraded,  may  be  so  far 
ruined  in  their  character,  that  he  cannot  repair  the  evils 
which  he  has  done  them.  For  these,  and  all  similar  offences, 
he  can  only  humble  himself  before  God,  and  resolve, 
by  a  different  life,  to  repair  as  far  as  possible  the  evils 
done  to  the  community  at  large.  The  individuals  may 
be  beyond  your  reach,  but  an  injured  community  is 
not,  and  is  as  much  to  be  benefitted  by  your  active  life 
in  holiness,  as  it  has  been  injured  by  your  active  life  of 
sin.  But  there  are  other  cases.  The  man  whom  you 
may  have  corrupted  by  your  infidelity,  blasphemy,  or 

16 


182  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

sensuality,  may  live,  and  you  may  be  the  means  of  re- 
claiming him.  The  man  whom  you  may  have  slandered 
may  still  live,  and  to  him  you  may  make  penitent  con- 
fession of  your  error.  The  man  that  you  defrauded  may 
be  alive,  and  you  are  bound  to  restore,  with  penitent  ac- 
knowledgments, that  of  which  you  deprived  him.  You 
failed  in  business.  You  made  an  assignment.  You  com- 
pounded with  your  creditors ;  and  they  released  you,  and 
the  law  released  you.  But  you  are  now  in  circumstances 
of  comfort  or  affluence — able  to  pay  all.  Will  your  con- 
science be  released  because  the  law  released  you  ?  Are 
you  free  from  moral  obligation  to  pay  what  you  owe, 
because  the  law  has  cancelled  the  legal  obligation  ?  You 
had  their  property.  You  used  it.  It  was  by  no  fault  of 
theirs  that  it  was  lost — and  they,  one  and  all,  suffered  by 
it.  You  have  the  means  of  restoring  it.  What  will  good 
faith  require  of  a  man  thus  circumstanced  ?  And  why 
shall  not  he  who  has  now  the  power  restore  all,  so  that 
he  may  feel  that  in  conscience  and  in  law  he  owes  no 
man  any  thing  ?  At  a  period  of  life  when  men  usually 
begin  to  look  for  relaxation  and  ease,  Sir  Walter  Scott 
failed,  and  was  burdened  with  a  debt  of  nearly  half  a 
million  of  dollars.  To  pay  it  he  had  nothing  but  his  pen. 
How  many  men — professors  of  religion,  too,  I  fear — 
would  have  sat  down  in  despair.  Not  so  he.  He  refused 
even  the  aid  of  his  friends.  *  This  right  hand,'  said  he, 
'  shall  pay  it' — and  night  and  day  he  toiled  till  mind  and 
body,  crushed  together,  sunk  under  the  noble  effort  to 
pay  every  man  that  he  owed.  What  an  example  to  men 
bearing  the  Christian  name,  who,  in  the  unavoidable 
transactions  of  business,  are  unable  to  pay  their  creditor's  ! 
What  a  reproach  to  him  who  can  continue  to  live  in  afflu- 
ence unconcerned,  and  who  feels  that  all  is  done  where 
the  law  has  pronounced  him  discharged  ! 

Again.  In  the  purpose  to  do  his  whole  duty  will  be 
involved  the  purpose  to  lead  a  life  of  prayer.  I  refer 
now  to  secret  prayer.  Most  persons  when  they  are 
about  to  make  a  profession  of  religion,  practice  secret 
prayer.  If  their  minds  are  deeply  impressed,  and  they 
feel  that  they  are  sinners,  they  pray  of  course.  And 
even  if  they  practice  a  deception  on  others  or  on  them- 
selves, there  is  such  an  obvious  impropriety  in  making  a 


1 

J 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  183 

profession  ot  religion  without  any  prayer,  that  they  then, 
if  at  no  other  time,  call  upon  God.  But  at  the  same  time 
it  is  easy  to  conceive  that  this  may  be  regarded  as  an 
extraordinary  duty,  and  that  they  have  no  serious  inten- 
tion to  continue  to  practice  it  to  any  considerable  extent 
after  they  shall  have  been  admitted  to  the  church.  Now, 
my  remark  is,  that  if  there  is  any  such  secret  purpose,  a 
profession  of  religion  should  not  be  made,  for  it  is  clear 
that  a  man  who  does  not  in  good  faith  practice  secret 
prayer,  cannot  be  a  pious  man.  "  When  thou  prayest," 
said  the  Saviour,  "enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when  thou 
hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret." 
Matth.  vi.  6.  "  Pray  without  ceasing,"  "in  everything 
by  prayer  and  supplication  with  thanksgiving,  let  your 
requests  be  made  known  unto  God,"  are  among  the  most 
positive  commands  of  the  Bible.  It  would  be  easy  to 
demonstrate  that  this  is  a  duty.  But  this  is  not  my  de- 
sign. My  remark  is,  that  a  man  who  comes  into  the 
church  not  prepared  to  take  from  his  worldly  business  as 
much  time  every  da^r  as  shall  be  necessary,  with  a  good 
conscience  to  keep  up  the  life  of  religion  in  the  heart ; 
to  meet  the  temptations  to  which  he  is  exposed,  and  to 
walk  with  God,  cannot  be  a  pious  man,  and  should  not 
approach  the  Lord's  supper.  Unless  he  loves  his  closet ; 
unless  he  prefers  it  to  any  place  of  amusement,  of  busi- 
ness, or  of  gain  ;  any  pursuit  of  science,  literature,  or  am- 
bition, he  may  have  much  that  is  amiable,  and  kind,  and 
fascinating,  but  he  has  no  evidence  that  he  is  a  pious 
man.  For  evidence  of  piety  will  be  better  found  in  the 
persevering  practice  of  secret  devotion,  than  in  the  most 
noisy  profession,  and  in  the  most  public  proclamation  of 
a  purpose  to  serve  God. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  those  whose  duty  would 
lead  them  to  the  practice  of  family  prayer.  The  general 
principle  is,  that  a  man  should  honestly  intend  to  dis- 
charge his  whole  duty.  My  remark  now  is,  that  if  he 
is  not  prepared  to  summon  his  family  around  him,  and 
worship  God  by  leading  them  to  the  throne  of  grace,  he 
is  not  prepared  to  make  a  profession  of  religion.  It 
would  be  too  long  to  go  into  a  proof  on  this  point  now. 
A  remark  or  two  must  suliice.  What  will  be  your  influ- 
ence in  your  family  if  this  is  not  done  ?  The  truth  is,  that 


184  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

there  is  such  an  instinctive  sense  of  the  propriety  of 
family  devotion  in  every  household,  that  where  this  is 
not  done,  all  other  influence  of  a  religious  kind  is  neu- 
tralized. A  child  knows  that  a  father  who  professes  to 
be  a  Christian  should  worship  God  in  his  own  dweUing. 
To  him  it  is  inexplicable  that  he  does  not  do  it.  He 
learns,  you  can  hardly  tell  how,  that  those  who  are  siu- 
cere  and  eminent  Christians,  do  offer  the  morning  and 
evening  sacrifice  to  God.  And  he  has  no  way  of  account- 
ing for  the  fact  that  you  do  not  do  it  except  on  the  sup- 
position that  you  have  less  religion — a  supposition  that 
approximates  very  rapidly  to  the  conclusion  that  you 
have  none.  And  what  man  can  expect  the  divine  bless- 
ing on  his  family ;  who  can  expect  peace  in  his  own 
bosom,  who  is  living  in  the  habitual  and  constant  neglect 
of  a  known  duty  ?  How  can  a  man  come  and  partake  of 
the  emblems  of  a  Saviour's  body,  who  at  the  very  time 
knows  that  he  is  daily  neglecting  a  positive  requirement 
of  God,  and  who  is  resolving  to  persevere  in  the  neglect? 

Again.  The  purpose  to  do  our  whole  duty  will  extend 
to  all  the  relations  of  life.  It  will  extend  to  the  intention 
to  be  a  Christian,  and  to  act  like  a  Christian,  wherever, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  we  may  be  placed.  Whether 
iw.  the  relation  of  parent  or  child  ;  of  husband  or  wife  ; 
of  brother  or  sister ;  of  master  or  servant ;  of  employer 
or  apprentice,  or  clerk,  in  all  these  relations  there  will  be 
the  solemn  and  fixed  purpose  to  do  our  whole  duty,  and 
to  adorn  religion  there.  In  any  situation  in  which  we 
may  be  placed,  there  will  be  the  design  to  live  and  act 
as  the  Saviour  did.  And  if  there  is  an  intention  to  lay 
aside  the  severer  restraints  of  religion ;  to  mingle  in 
scenes  of  gaity  and  vanity  that  are  contrary  to  the  most 
strict  obligations  of  Christianity ;  to  go  away  from  the 
sanctuary  and  to  be  as  gay,  as  volatile,  as  ambitious, 
and  as  fond  of  dress  and  amusement  as  the  people  of  the 
world  are,  the  case  is  clear,  whatever  else  you  may  do, 
you  should  never  approach  the  table  of  communion. 

V.  A  fifth  general  principle  is,  that  we  are  to  come 
resolving  that  we  will  be  as  eminent  Christians  as  possi- 
ble, or  that  we  will  make  as  much  of  our  religion  as  we 
possibly  can  make  of  it.  My  meaning  is,  that  we  should 
"  make  full  proof"  of  the  power  of  the  gospel  to  sane- 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  185 

tify  the  soul ;  that  we  should  not  come  intending  merely 
to  he  a  member  of  the  church;  nor  merely  to  reach 
heaven,  but  intending  that  whatever  there  is  of  purify- 
ing power,  whatever  there  is  of  consolation,  whatever 
there  is  of  the  fulness  of  hope  in  the  gospel  should  be 
ours.  One  of  the  resolutions  of  President  Edward's,  adopt- 
ed in  early  life,  was  in  these  words  :  "  On  the  supposition 
that  there  never  was  but  one  individual  in  the  world,  at 
any  time,  who  was  properly  a  complete  Christian  in  all 
respects  of  a  right  stamp,  having  Christianity  always 
shilling  in  its  true  lustre,  and  appearing  excellent  and 
lovely,  from  whatever  part  and  under  whatever  charac- 
ter viewed  :  Resolved,  to  act  just  as  I  would  do,  if  I  strove 
with  all  my  might  to  be  that  one  who  should  live  in  my 
time."  Nor  do  I  see  how  any  one  can  be  prepared  to 
make  a  profession  of  religion  who  does  not  adopt  sub- 
stantially that  resolution.  No  commands  of  the  New 
Testament  are  more  positive  than  those  which  require  us 
not  only  to  aim  at  perfection,  but  to  be  perfect.  "  Be  ye, 
therefore,  perfect,"  said  the  Saviour,  '•  as  your  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect."  Matth.  v.  48.  "As  he  which  hath 
called  you  is  holy,  so  be  ye  holy  in  all  manner  of  conver- 
sation." 1  Pet.  i.  15.  The  idea  is  that  he  who  makes  a 
profession  of  rehgion  should  resolve  to  be  as  holy  as  pos- 
sible ;  to  be  as  dead  to  the  world  as  possible  ;  to  be  as 
eminent  in  love  to  God  and  in  love  to  man,  in  prayer, 
and  faith,  and  humility,  and  self-denial  as  he  possibly 
can  be. 

To  dwell  on  this  head  in  the  way  of  proof,  would  be 
useless.  I  may  just  add,  however,  that  if  a  man  wishes 
either  comfort  or  usefulness  in  the  church,  he  can  obtain 
either  only  in  this  way.  No  man  ever  arrived  at  any 
eminence  either  in  moral  character,  or  in  any  profession, 
who  had  not  such  a  singleness  of  aim.  "  If  thine  eye 
be  single  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  light ;  but  if 
thine  eye  be  evil,  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  dark- 
ness." Matth.  vi.  22.  The  reason  why  there  is  so  little 
comfort,  peace,  joy,  and  usefulness  among  the  professed 
friends  of  Christ,  is,  that  they  never  came  into  the  church 
with  any  unity  of  aim ;  or  if  they  did,  they  soon  aban- 
doned it.  To  be  a  Christian  ;  to  live  a  life  of  piety ;  to 
be  holy,  was  onlv  one  of  many  plans  which  they  formed ; 


186  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

and  one,  alas !  which  has  been  often  compelled  to  give 
way  to  others.  For  it  often  happens,  that  of  all  the  plans 
and  purposes  which  professed  Christians  form,  those  of 
their  religion  are  the  most  flexible  and  yielding.  The 
laws  of  fashionable  life,  at  any  expense  of  time,  or  mo- 
ney, or  ease,  must  be  conformed  to.  The  lav/s  which 
govern  them  in  their  attempts  to  become  rich  and  honor- 
ed, are  to  bo  conformed  to.  If  there  is  to  be  any  yielding, 
the  laws  of  their  religion  are  to  be  made  to  give  way.  If 
any  time  is  taken  for  any  new  project,  it  is  time  taken 
from  their  closets  rather  than  their  counting-rooms ;  and 
the  devotions  of  the  family  are  abridged  rather  than  the 
pleasures  of  the  evening  party.  If,  in  the  pressure  of 
hard  times,  there  is  any  curtailment  of  expenses  requi- 
site, the  curtailment  is  made  in  the  matters  of  benevo- 
lence, and  the  cause  of  Christ  first  suffers.  Meantime 
the  splendid  mansion,  and  the  carriage,  and  the  retinue 
of  servants,  and  the  gay  apparel,  and  the  gorgeous  furni- 
ture are  kept  as  long  as  they  can  be  ;  but  the  channels 
of  benevolence  are  dry,  and  sympathy  for  the  cause  of  a 
dying  world  is  suddenly  extinguished.  With  such  the 
least  stable  of  all  laws  are  those  of  the  New  Testament ; 
the  most  firm  are  those  which  control  the  fashionable  and 
the  business  world.  Now,  what  I  am  wishing  to  say  is 
this :  That  he  who  comes  into  the  churcli  intending  that 
in  any  unexpected  emergency  the  first  acts  of  retrench- 
ment shall  be  made  on  his  religion  ;  that  his  piety  shall 
be  perpetually  giving  way  to  the  laws  of  fashionable 
life,  of  politics,  of  gain,  and  of  honor ;  that  all  abridg- 
ments of  time  shall  be  taken  from  his  times  of  prayer, 
and  of  reading  the  Bible,  and  of  proper  religious  duty, 
knows  nothing  about  religion,  and  should  not  presume 
to  approach  the  emblems  of  a  Saviour's  death.  The 
only  things  in  this  world  that  are  to  be  stern,  inflexible, 
unchanging,  and  eternal,  are  the  principles  of  religion  ; 
and  where  they  are  not  so  regarded,  whether  in  the  church 
or  out  of  it,  there  is  an  utter  destitution  of  the  principles 
of  true  love  to  the  Redeemer.  Heaven  and  earth  are  to 
pass  away,  but  the  laws  of  Christ  are  not  to  pass  away. 
VI.  A  sixth  principle  which  I  state  on  which  we 
should  make  a  profession  of  religion  is,  that  we  should 
be  the  warm  and  decided  friends  of  revivals.     I  mean 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  187 

by  this,  not  only  that  we  should  be  the  friends  of  reli- 
gion in  general,  and  of  its  advancement — which  every 
man  who  makes  any  pretensions  to  piety  must  be — but 
that  we  should  be  the  advocates  and  friends  of  the  extra- 
ordinary manifestations  of  the  grace  of  God  when  num- 
bers are  simultaneously  converted  to  the  Saviour.  I  do 
not  deny  that  religion  is  to  make  advances  in  the  world 
by  other  modes  than  by  revivals  ;  nor  do  I  affirm,  by  any 
means,  that  we  are  to  undervalue  any  influences,  how- 
ever feeble,  that  tend  to  the  promotion  of  true  piety  on 
the  earth.  But  this  is  what  I  mean.  The  gospel  is  fitted 
to  produce  a  deep  and  far-spreading  simultaneous  influ- 
ence on  the  minds  of  men.  It  is  a  fact  that  such  an  in- 
fluence often  descends  from  heaven  and  pervades  a  com- 
munity, and  that  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  religion 
spreads  from  heart  to  heart,  and  the  power  of  sympathy 
is  excited,  and  many  come  simultaneously  to  the  cross. 
It  is  a  fact  that  the  Saviour  promised  such  blessings,  and 
that  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  the  Spirit  of  God  descended 
with  such  power,  and  that  thousands  were  converted. 
And  it  is  a  fact  that  if  this  world  is  ever  converted  to 
God  ;  if  this  land  is  saved  from  infidelity,  and  Sabbath- 
breaking,  and  licentiousness,  and  profaneness,  it  must  be 
by  such  scenes  as  were  witnessed  on  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost. I  have  no  other  hope  of  the  prevalence  and  exten- 
sion of  religion  and  purity  on  earth  than  by  revivals  of 
religion.  Of  this  age  they  have  been  the  glory ;  striking 
deeper  and  farther  onward  into  all  that  is  valuable  in  our 
prospects  for  the  future,  than  any  or  than  all  other  means 
that  have  been  adopted  to  bless  our  country. 

Now  men  enter  the  church  with  very  various  feelings 
in  regard  to  these  manifestations  of  the  grace  of  God. 
Some  have  never  witnessed  such  displays  of  his  mercy, 
and  have  no  settled  opinion  in  regard  to  them.  Some 
look  on  the  whole  subject  with  distrust,  and  have  no  de- 
sire to  witness  them.  Some  associate  them  with  scenes 
of  disorder  and  fanaticism  ;  regard  them  as  the  result  of 
an  overheated  imagination,  and  as  tending  to  unsettle  all 
that  is  fixed  and  permanent.  Some  regard  them  as  the 
sluices  of  error  and  extravagance,  and  deem  them  to  be 
the  mere  production  of  human  measures  and  machinery. 
The  ignorance  of  many  in  the  church  on  this  subject  is 


188  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

to  be  pitied  rather  than  to  be  regarded  as  a  subject  of 
reproach.  But  the  opposition  which  is  often  made  de- 
serves other  language  than  that  which  merely  describes 
ignorance.  The  apathy  of  the  churches  in  regard  to  re- 
vivals is  one  of  the  most  melancholy  features  of  the  times 
in  which  we  live. 

The  position  which  I  wish  now  to  be  understood  as 
taking  is,  that  no  one  should  make  a  profession  of  religion 
unless  he  is  prepared  to  give  his  prayers,  and  toils,  and 
honest  efforts  to  a  promotion  of  a  pure  revival  of  religion. 
He  is  not  to  come  into  the  church  to  speak  of  such  scenes 
as  disorder  and  confusion  ;  he  is  not  to  come  to  complain 
of  the  preaching  which  the  Holy  Ghost  usually  blesses  to 
this  end  ;  he  is  not  to  come  to  take  side  with  the  wicked 
world  in  characterizing  such  scenes  as  that  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost  as  extravagance  and  wild-fire  ;  he  is  not  to 
come  to  impede  any  honest  and  well-meant  effort  to  pro- 
mote the  salvation  of  souls.  Not  for  such  purposes  is  he  to 
come  into  the  church  of  Jesus  Christ — for  in  all  churches 
there  are  enough  such  already.  We  need  other  men. 
The  churches  need  other  professors  of  religion.  There 
must  be  other  professors  of  religion — those  who  will 
heartily,  and  prayerfully,  and  continually  seek  a  revival 
of  the  work  of  God.  And  if  such  is  ^^our  state  of  mind 
that  you  could  not  in  all  honesty  and  heartiness  join  in 
the  prayer  that  the  church  might  witness  such  a  scene  as 
that  on  the  day  of  Pentecost ;  if  you  would  be  alarmed, 
or  would  shrink  back  at  the  prospect  of  the  simultaneous 
conversion  of  hundreds  and  thousands  in  a  brief  period 
of  time  ;  if  you  would  call  it  extravagance  and  enthu- 
siasm, and  join  with  the  wicked  and  say,  "  these  men  are 
filled  with  new  wine,"  then  it  is  manifest  that  you  are  not 
prepared  to  make  a  profession  of  religion.  Jesus  Christ 
needs  no  allies  who  would  deride  the  work  of  the  day  of 
Pentecost,  or  that  would  consider  it  as  a  scene  of  tumult 
and  disorder. 

But  what  I  have  now  said  expresses  very  feebly  what 
I  wish  to  say.  It  is  not  merely  that  you  are  not  to  oppose 
such  a  work,  but  it  is  that  you  would  heartily  desire  it, 
and  pray  and  labor  for  it.  The  sum  of  what  I  would 
say  is,  that  in  all  our  churches  we  need — we  greatly  need 
— those  who  in  the  fulness  of  an  overflowing  heart  can 


PROCESSING    RELIGION.  189 

say,  "  0  Lord,  revive  thy  work,  in  the  midst  of  the  years 
make  known,  in  wrath  remember  mercy ;"  those  who 
for  "  Zion's  sake  will  not  hold  their  peace,  and  who  for  Je- 
rusalem's sake  cannot  rest,  until  the  righteousness  thereof 
go  forth  as  brightness,  and  the  salvation  thereof  as  a  lamp 
that  burneth."  Why  should  a  man  enter  the  house  of 
God  to  impede  in  any  way  the  work  of  salvation  ?  And 
if  you  are  not  prepared  to  stand  forth  as  the  advocate  of 
revivals  of  religion  ;  if  you  are  not  prepared  to  give  your 
influence  to  promote  them  ;  if  you  are  not  prepared  to  sus- 
tain a  pastor  in  such  preaching  and  efforts  as  are  adapted 
to  produce  them  ;  if  you  cannot  be  depended  on,  should 
God  in  his  mercy  visit  his  people  with  the  descending 
blessings  of  salvation  like  floods  and  torrents,  then  you 
have  not  a  spirit  adopted  to  the  exigency  of  the  times  in 
which  you  live ;  you  bring  not  the  aid  which  the  church 
needs  in  this  time  of  her  history." 

VII.  A  seventh  principle  which  I  state  is,  that  you 
should  enter  the  church  as  a  warm  and  decided  friend  of 
any  and  every  proper  plan  for  the  salvation  of  the  world. 
For  what  did  the  Redeemer  organize  the  church  ?  What 
purpose  did  he  contemplate  by  continuing  it  as  an  organ- 
ized body  from  age  to  age  ?  Not  for  its  own  ease ;  not 
primarily  and  principally  that  its  members  might  be  pre- 
pared for  heaven.  When  converted  they  are  prepared  for 
heaven,  and  if  they  should  then  die,  they  would  be  saved ; 
and  heaven  is  a  higher  place  of  comfort  than  the  church 
here,  and  better  fitted  to  purify  the  soul  than  all  the  advan- 
tages which  we  can  here  enjoy.  The  design  for  which  he 
keeps  them  here  he  has  stated.  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world 
and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  Christ  contem- 
plates the  conversion  of  this  whole  world  to  himself. 
There  is  not  a  nation  or  a  people  which  he  does  not  intend 
to  subjugate  to  his  law.  The  distant  tribes  of  men  are  to 
learn  his  name,  and  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  gospel ;  and  the 
instrumentality  by  which  that  is  to  be  effected  is  his  church. 

Every  individual  who  becomes  connected  with  the 
church  should  sympathize  with  Jesus  Christ  in  his  pur- 
pose to  save  the  world.  He  should  be  of  course  a  friend 
of  every  feasible  plan  to  extend  the  influence  of  religion  ; 
he  should  regard  his  time,  and  influence,  and  wealth,  as 
all  the  property  of  God  the  Saviour,  to  be  employed  in 


190  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

whatever  way  he  shall  direct.  In  all  societies  he  should 
be  prepared  to  advocate  the  plans  of  benevolence ;  at  all 
times  he  should  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  of  befriending 
every  scheme  that  goes  to  alleviate  human  misery,  and 
to  elevate  man  to  the  favor  of  God.  It  should  not  be 
forced,  constrained,  unwilling ;  but  he  should  be  just  as 
willing  to  sacrifice  his  time  and  property  to  benefit 
the  world  as  Jesus  Christ  was  to  sacrifice  comfort  and 
life  to  save  us.  Why  should  he  not  be  ?  He  should  be 
just  as  willing,  if  need  be,  to  cross  oceans  amidst  priva- 
tions and  wants  to  benefit  the  perishing  as  the  apostle 
Paul  was.     Why  should  he  not  be  ? 

It  needs  no  great  acquaintance  with  the  church  to  see 
that  all  are  not  so.  And  it  needs  but  little  observation  to 
see  the  effect  v/hen  they  are  not  so.  When  members  of 
the  church  are  more  penurious  in  regard  to  the  objects  of 
Christian  benevolence  than  are  the  men  of  the  world ; 
when  you  can  more  certainly  calculate  on  a  liberal  bene- 
faction for  the  circulation  of  the  Bible  and  the  spread  of 
the  gospel  from  a  man  who  makes  no  pretension  to  reli- 
gion than  from  a  professed  Christian ;  when  a  member 
of  the  church  joins  with  its  foes  in  finding  fault  with  the 
plans  of  Christian  benevolence,  in  exaggerating  the  errors 
of  those  engaged  in  this  work,  in  throwing  obstacles  in  the 
way  ;  when  they  look  with  unconcern  on  the  whole  enter- 
prize  of  saving  man ;  when  they  have  thousands  to  lavish 
on  their  dwellings,  their  dress,  their  furniture,  their  equip- 
age, their  children,  and  nothing  to  give  to  that  Redeemer 
who  died  for  men  ;  or  when  they  can  find  it  in  their  heart 
to  lavish  on  a  splendid  entertainment  their  wealth  with- 
out limit  or  bound  and  turn  away  coldly  from  the  plead- 
ings of  a  perishing  world  for  aid,  whatever  may  be  the 
estimate  in  which  they  will  be  held  finally  by  the  Master 
before  Avhom  they  must  stand  or  fall,  it  is  impossible  not 
to  see  the  effect  which  it  must  have  in  regard  to  the  sal- 
vation of  the  world.  There  are  devoted  men  with  as 
complete  a  right  to  earthly  comforts  as  we  have,  who 
have  forsaken  all,  and  who  labor  amidst  many  discourage- 
ments in  heathen  lands  to  bring  them  to  God.  And  that 
which  their  hearts  must  most  deeply  feel  is,  the  coldness 
and  indifference  with  which  their  enterprize  is  regarded 
by  many  of  the  professed  friends  of  their  common  Lord. 


PROFESSING    RELIGION.  191 

Now  we  need  not  so  much  accession  of  numbers  to  the 
churches  as  those  who  shall  enter  heartily  into  the  work 
of  the  world's  redemption.  Nothing  is  gained  to  the  cause 
of  Christ — as  nothing  is  gained  to  himself — when  a  man 
enrols  himself  among  the  professed  friends  of  the  Saviour 
only  to  be  a  clog  and  a  burden  on  the  chariot  wheels  of 
salvation  ; — a  man  doing  his  duty  only  when  it  coincides 
with  his  own  interest ;  who  habitually  neglects  secret  and 
family  worship  ;  who  means  to  have  only  religion  enough 
to  make  him  respectable  and  to  take  him  to  heaven  ;  who 
has  no  friendship  for  revivals  of  religion,  and  who  doubts 
about  them  or  opposes  them ;  who  stands  aloof  from  the 
plans  of  Christian  benevolence,  and  who  coolly  sees  a 
world  unpitied  going  down  to  hell.  Such  a  man  sheds 
a  blight  on  any  church,  and  on  all  accounts  should  retain 
his  connexion  with  the  world.  Let  him  not  deceive  him- 
self, or  attempt  to  deceive  God  and  his  fellow-men,  by 
enrolling  his  name  among  the  friends  of  the  Redeemer. 
Other  helpers  are  needed  than  these.  The  church  must 
have  other  friends  or  it  will  be  ruined ;  the  world  must 
hax^e  other  helpers  or  it  will  never  be  converted  to  God. 

Finally,  I  would  observe  that  if  the  remarks  which 
have  now  been  made,  and  which  were  made  in  the  pre- 
vious discourse,  are  correct,  then  we  have  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  profession  of  religion  is  much  more 
than  a  form  and  a  name.  To  make  such  a  profession  is 
a  step  not  to  be  entered  on  without  thought,  and  without 
a  most  thorough  acquaintance  with  ourselves.  Our  prin- 
ciples should  be  understood.  The  reasons  which  prompt 
us  to  it  should  be  known.  The  object  at  which  we  aim 
should  be  seen.  The  stand  which  we  take  should  be  de- 
cided. And  it  should  be  taken  with  such,  clear  views, 
and  such  firm  convictions,  that  we  should  be  able  to 
maintain  our  position  amidst  all  the  frowns,  the  contempt, 
and  the  opposition  which  we  may  meet  with. 

On  the  ground  of  these  views  and  principles,  we  may 
exhort  you  to  make  a  profession  of  religion.  If  the  act 
were  what  many  seem  to  suppose ;  if  it  imposed  no  solemn 
obligations  and  implied  no  settled  principles  in  regard  to 
the  course  of  life ;  if  it  was  merely  the  change  of  a  name 
and  of  external  relations ;  if  it  were  to  come  into  the 
church  and  pass  the  life  in  spiritual  repose  and  indolence, 


192  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

then  I  should  feel  no  interest  in  exhorting  any  man  to 
mak^  a  profession  of  religion,  and  you  would  feel  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  no  consequence  whether  it  was  or  was 
not  done.  It  would  be  a  matter  too  insignificant  to  excite 
any  solicitude  ;  and  the  whole  subject  might  be  dismissed 
without  concern.  And  one  reason,  as  I  apprehend,  why  so 
few  make  a  profession,  is,  that  it  is  felt  by  them  to  be  a 
matter  of  little  importance,  implying  a  slight  change  of 
purpose,  and  not  connected  with  any  great  and  important 
principles.  I  do  not  conceal  the  fact  that  I  hope  by  the 
representation  which  I  have  made  to  deter  from  this  act 
those  who  would  come  into  the  church  only  to  be  an  in- 
cumbrance when  there ;  but  I  have  also  desired  to  show 
you  that  it  is  an  act  which  demands  solemn  purpose,  and 
profound  thought,  and  much  prayer,  and  which  is  worth 
an  effort.  We  need  none,  we  ask  none,  to  come  among  us 
who  are  not  prepared  to  consecrate  themselves  in  the 
self-denials  of  a  holy  life  to  the  Son  of  God ;  none  who 
will  not  every  where  and  always  have  the  humility, 
the  self-denial,  the  heavenly-mindedness,  the  ever  burning 
zeal,  the  universal  benevolence  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 


SERMON  XIII. 

ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.       NO.  I. 

Phil.  lii.  18.  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now 
tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

Are  we  true  Christians  ?  is  the  most  important  ques- 
tion wliich  can  be  asked  in  relation  to  ourselves.  It  is  a 
question  which  may  be  examined  with  the  utmost  atten- 
tion without  danger  of  injury.  True  piety,  like  gold, 
will  bear  any  test  that  can  be  applied,  and  will  be  all 
the  brighter  and  purer  for  it,  and  no  sincere  Christian  need 
be  alarmed  by  any  examination  of  his  religion,  however 
rigid  or  severe.  If  our  religion  is  not  genuine  it  should 
be  examined  by  the  strictest  tests,  and  when  believed  to 
be  false  it  should  be  honestly  abandoned. 

It  is  evident  that  the  persons  referred  to  in  the  text 
V\rere  professors  of  religion.  The  term  "walk"  is  com- 
monly used  in  the  New  Testament  to  denote  Christian 
conduct ;  and  the  undoubted  meaning  of  the  text  is,  that 
there  were  many  persons  in  the  church  at  Philippi — pure 
and  noble  as  that  church  Vv^as  in  tlie  main,  who  professed 
to  be  Christians,  but  who  showed  by  their  deportment 
that  they  were  real  enemies  of  the  religion  which  they 
professed.  The  "Cross  of  Christ"  is  an  emphatic  phrase 
to  denote  the  Christian  religion.  As  the  sacrifice  on  the 
cross  constituted  the  very  essence  of  Christianity,  the 
term  came  to  denote  the  Christian  religion  itself.  It  is 
here  used,  perhaps,  also  to  show  more  emphatically  the 
apostle's  view  of  tlie  extreme  heinousness  of  the  ofience, 
that,  while  they  professed  to  be  Christians^  they  were  in 
fact  the  enemies  of  the  very  peculiariti/  of  the  Christian 
religion. 

Of  the  existence  of  such  strangers  to  religion  in  the 
church,  Paul  had  been  long  aware.  Of  their  character, 
and  of  their  fearful  doom  he  had  told  them  often.  He 
now  again  reminded  them,  with  tears,  of  the  melancholy 

17  193 


194  PRACTICAL    SERMONS.  r 

truth.  He  used  not  towards  them  the  language  of  harsh 
and  angry  denunciation.  He  did  not  hold  them  up  to 
pubUc  scorn  and  indignation.  He  did  not  attempt  to 
wound  their  feelings  by  satire,  or  to  overwhelm  them  with 
harsh  invective.  He  was  too  deeply  impressed  with  their 
guilt  and  their  danger  to  do  this.  He  knew  that  the  way 
to  reclaim  the  deceived  and  the  erring  was  not  to  de- 
nounce them  with  harshness,  but  to  entreat  them  with 
tears.  Kindness  accomplishes  what  severity  cannot  do, — 
as,  in  the  fabled  strife  between  the  sun  and  the  north  wind, 
the  sun  with  gentle  and  warming  beams  removes  the 
cloak  which  the  north  wind  could  not  strip  away  by  vio- 
lence. The  language  of  tenderness  will  find  its  way 
with  reforming  power  to  the  heart,  where  the  words  of 
harsh  rebuke  would  tend  only  to  irritate  and  confirm  in 
error.  Paul  felt  also,  probably,  as  every  minister  of  the 
gospel  should,  that  it  little  becomes  a  dying  mortal,  con- 
scious of  many  imperfections  and  much  liability  to  self- 
deception  himself,  to  use  the  language  of  harsh  denuncia- 
tion when  speaking  to  others.  Conscious  imperfection 
will  speak  tenderly  of  the  faults  of  others,  and  will  weep 
rather  than  denounce  when  there  is  need  of  speaking  of 
the  errors  and  dangers  of  professed  Christians. 

From  the  words  of  the  text,  the  following  points  of 
remark  are  naturally  suggested. 

I.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  many  professors  of 
religion  are  the  real  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

H.  What  are  the  characteristics  of  that  enmity  ;  or  how 
may  it  be  determined  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the 
cross  of  Christ  ?  and 

HI.  Why  is  the  fact  of  their  being  in  the  church  fitted 
to  produce  grief  and  tears? 

I.  The  first  proposition  is,  that  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  many  professors  of  religion  are  the  real  enemies  of 
the  cross  of  Christ.  The  proof  on  this  head  might  be 
drawn  from  what  we  know  of  the  deceitfulness  of  the 
heart;  the  numerous  cautions  against  deception  in  the 
Scriptures ;  and  from  the  case  of  Judas  among  the  apos- 
tles, and  other  instances  specified  in  the  New  Testament. 
I  choose,  however,  rather  to  rest  the  whole  proof  of  this 
point  on  the  account  which  the  Lord  Jesus  has  himself 
given  of  the  condition  of  the  church  in  the  two  instruct 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  195 

tive  parables  of  the  tares  of  the  field,  and  of  the  net 
cast  mto  the  sea.  "  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  likened 
unto  a  man  which  sowed  good  seed  in  his  field  :  but  while 
men  slept,  his  enemy  came  and  sowed  tares  among  the 
wheat,  and  went  his  way.  But  when  the  blade  was 
sprung  up,  and  brought  forth  fruit,  then  appeared  the  tares 
also.  So  the  servants  of  the  householder  came  and  said 
unto  him.  Sir,  didst  not  thou  sow  good  seed  in  thy  field? 
from  whence  then  hath  it  tares  ?  He  said  unto  them, 
An  enemy  hath  done  this.  The  servants  said  unto  him, 
Wilt  thou  then  that  we  go  and  gather  them  up  ?  But  he 
said.  Nay  ;  lest  while  ye  gather  up  the  tares,  ye  root  up 
also  the  wheat  with  them.  Let  both  grow  together  until 
the  harvest :  and  in  the  time  of  harvest,  I  will  say  to  the 
reapers.  Gather  ye  together  first  the  tares,  and  bind  them 
in  bundles  to  burn  them ;  but  gather  ye  the  wheat  into 
my  barn."  Matth.  xiii.  24 — 30.  "  Again  :  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  like  unto  a  net  that  was  cast  into  the  sea,  and 
gathered  of  every  kind :  which  when  it  was  full,  they 
drew  to  shore,  and  sat  down,  and  gathered  the  good  into 
vessels,  but  cast  the  bad  away.  So  shall  it  be  at  the  end 
of  the  Avorld :  the  angels  shall  come  forth,  and  sever  the 
wicked  from  among  the  just ;  and  shall  cast  them  into 
the  furnace  of  fire."     Matth.  xiii.  47 — 50. 

That  our  Saviour  meant  to  teach  in  these  parables  that 
there  would  be  many  who  would  profess  his  name  who 
would  be  strangers  to  him,  there  can  be  no  doubt. — 
The  same  thing  he  affirmed  in  his  account  of  the  trans- 
actions of  the  day  of  judgment.  Matth.  vii.  21 — 23: 
"  Not  every  one  that  shall  call  unto  me.  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Many  will  say  unto 
me  in  that  day,  Lord,  Lord,  have  we  not  prophesied  in 
thy  name  ?  and  in  thy  name  cast  out  devils,  and  in  thy 
name  done  many  wonderful  works  ?  And  then  will  I  pro- 
fess unto  them,  1  never  knew  you." 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  dwell  on  this  part  of  our  sub- 
ject. I  wish  simply  to  place  the  proof  of  the  fact  before 
our  own  minds  as  furnishing  a  reason  for  whatever  ear- 
nestness I  may  evince  in  urging  the  language  of  the 
Bible,  "  Be  not  deceived."  I  may  just  observe,  however, 
in  passing,  (I.)  That  Christianity  is  not  responsible  for  the 


196  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

hypocrites  or  self-deceived  professors  that  may  be  at  any 
time  in  the  bosom  of  the  church.     ReUgion  does  not  pro- 
duce or  countenance  hypocrisy.    No  book  more  decidedly 
condemns  it  than  the  New  Testament ;  no  person  ever 
did  it  with  more  severity  than  the  Saviour.  The  Christian 
religion  should  no  more  be  held  answerable  for  hypocrisy, 
than  friendship  is  for  false  professions,  or  the  patriotism 
of   Washington,  for  the   treason  of  Arnold.     (2.)    The 
Christian  religion  does  not  stand  alone  in  this.   There  are 
men  who  make  professions  of  friendship  which  are  false  ; 
men  who  make  professions  of  patriotism  which  are  false  ; 
men   who   make    professions    of   honesty,  temperance, 
chastity,  and  honor,  which  are  false,  as  well  as  men  who 
profess  religion  who  are  false.     If  our  revolution  pro- 
duced a  Washington,  it  produced  also  an  Arnold ;  and  if 
great  and  trying  times  have  produced  patriots  who  would 
shed  their  blood  for  their  country,  they  have  produced 
men  also  who  would  sell  their  country  for  gold.    (3.)  We 
claim  for  Christianity  only  the  good  which  it  has  done. 
We  point  to  the  sinners  whom  it  has  reformed  ;  to  the 
vicious  whom  it  has  reclaimed  ;  to  the  proud  whom  it 
has  humbled  ;  to  the  virtues  which  it  has  created  and 
cherished,  and  to  its  influence  on  the  morals  and  the  des- 
tiny of  mankind,  as  the  proof  of  its  power.     We  claim 
not  for  it  the  "  tares"  which  have  been  sown  in  the  field. 
"  An  enemy  hath  done  this."     Patriotism  may  speak  of 
its  achievements,  and  of  the  heroic  virtues  which  it  has 
summoned  forth  and  sustained,  but  it  is  not  to  be  charged 
with  the  crimes  which  under  the  name  of  love  of  country 
have  aimed  a  vital  stab  at  liberty.  (4.)  We  ask  that,  on  this 
subject,  the  language  of  discrimination  and  justice  should 
be  used.     We  have  no  wish  to  screen  the  hypocrite,  or 
to  be  apologists  for  deceit.     We  ask  that  Christianity 
should  not  be  held  answerable  for  what  it  has  not  contri- 
buted to  produce  and  foster.     And  we  especially  desire 
that  the  facts  to  which  we  are  now  adverting  should  not 
be  made  the  occasion  of  the  ruin  of  the  soul.     It  will  be 
a  poor  compensation  for  the  loss  of  the  soul  to  reflect  that 
many  were  deceived  in  the  church,  and,  to  be  able  to 
prove,  if  you  are  lost,  that  your  most  sanguine  calcula- 
tions of  the  number  of  hypocrites  was  correct,  or  fell 
short  of  the  reality.     Such  a  reminiscence  in  the  world 


ENEMIES  OF  THE   CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  197 

of  WO  will  not  constitute  even  the  "  single  drop  of  water'' 
that  shall  be  needed  to  cool  the  parched  tongue.  It  will 
be  no  alleviation  to  your  sorrows  or  mine,  that  others 
were  deceived  ;  and  to  prove  that  they  have  gone  to  hell 
will  constitute  no  passport  for  us  to  heaven. 

II.  My  second  object  was  to  show  how  we  may  deter- 
mine when  those  who  profess  religion  are  the  enemies  of 
the  cross  of  Christ. 

The  great  importance  of  this  enquiry,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  obtaining  discriminating  views  on  it,  will  consti- 
tute the  apology  for  all  the  attention  which  I  shall  ask  to 
this  head  of  the  discourse. 

The  modes  in  which  we  discern  the  existence  of 
hostility  are  the  following.  (1.)  When  it  is  avowed 
and  declared,  as  between  nations  at  war,  or  individuals 
engaged  in  contention  and  strife.  (2.)  It  may  be  evinced 
by  neglecting  to  manifest  friendship  in  circumstances 
fitted  to  test  the  character,  and  to  bring  out  the  real 
principles.  In.  a  nation,  if  all  are  summoned  to  its  de- 
fence, and  a  part  neglect  or  refuse  to  come  to  its  aid, 
their  real  principles  cannot  be  a  matter  of  doubt.  The 
danger  of  the  nation  may  be  so  imminent,  that  a  neglect 
to  act  is  in  fact  an  indication  of  hostile  feelings.  (3.) 
It  is  evinced  by  failing  to  manifest  the  characteristic 
spirit  of  friendship.  If  we  are  in  distress,  and  a  pro- 
fessed friend  could  aid  us,  but  loill  not ;  if  we  are  hungry, 
and  he  will  not  feed  us  ;  if  we  are  thirsty,  and  he  will 
not  give  us  drink ;  if  we  are  naked,  and  he  will  not 
clothe  us ;  if  we  are  sick  and  in  prison,  and  he  will 
not  visit  us  ;  if  our  affairs  are  in  danger  of  bankruptcy, 
and  he  will  not  help  us  ;  if  we  are  dying,  and  he  will  not 
come  near  us  to  moisten  our  parched  lips,  or  to  close  our 
eyes  in  death,  we  have  no  doubt  about  the  nature  of  his 
professed  friendship  ; — for  these  are  the  scenes  which 
determine  the  reality  of  affection.  (4.)  It  is  evinced 
where  the  professed  friend  is  found  coinciding  in  his  plans 
and  feelings  with  those  of  an  enemy  ;  where  the  course 
of  life  he  leads  is  such  as  to  throw  no  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  our  antagonist,  but  is  such  as  rather  to  facilitate  his 
plans ;  and  where  he  refuses  to  lend  his  aid  to  us,  to 
cripple  the  efforts  and  to  embarrass  the  movements  of  the 
foe.     If  our  professed  friends  find  all  our  schemes  and 

17* 


198  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

movements  only  embarrass  theirs ;  if  we  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  them,  and  are  always  found  doubting  the 
wisdom  of  their  plans,  and  suggesting  errors  and  evils ; 
if  we  have  no  plans  of  our  own  to  propose,  but  live  only 
to  suggest  doubt  about  the  expediency  of  those  adopted 
by  them,  it  proves  that  our  real  sympathies  are  not  with 
them,  but  with  their  foes.  (5.)  If  we  are  secretly  aiding 
and  abetting  an  enemy,  it  shows  that  we  are  really  in  his 
interest.  If  we  are  suggesting  the  counsels  which  he 
would  suggest,  if  we  are  forming  the  plans  which  he 
would  form  ;  if  we  are  throwing  embarrassments  where 
he  would  do  it,  it  shows  that  we  are  really  advancing 
his  cause.  Further.  There  are  often  decisive  moments 
— the  crises  of  events — where  a  slight  circumstance  will 
determine  the  scale  on  one  side  or  the  other.  If,  in  those 
trying  times,  when  every  man  is  expected  to  be  found  at 
his  post,  we  are  found  in  ever  so  small  a  matter  abetting 
an  enemy,  it  shows  that  we  are  under  his  influence  and 
control.  A  word  or  a  single  action  may  often  do  more 
to  decide  the  character  and  determine  the  real  feelings  in 
the  crisis  of  a  battle  than  the  conduct  of  many  hours  and 
months  in  a  time  of  peace.  (6.)  The  character  is  often 
suddenly  developed  by  some  circumstance  which  shows 
what  it  is.  Some  strong  temptation  brings  out  the  true 
feelings  of  the  soul,  and  shows  what  is  the  real  object  of 
attachment,  while  the  general  course  of  the  life  may  have 
been  apparently  otherwise.  Such  was  the  case  in  the 
instances  of  Achan  and  Judas.  In  the  comparatively 
monotonous  scenes  of  life,  the  profession  may  be  uniform 
and  fair,  and  nothing  may  occur  that  shall  determine  the 
true  feelings  of  the  soul.  For  it  is  not  the  uniformity  of 
the  profession  that  determines  character  ;  it  is  the  crisis, 
the  moment  of  intense  interest,  the  period  when  all  the 
real  principles  of  the  life  are  rallied  and  exhibited,  that 
constitutes  the  true  criterion  of  the  character. 

Our  object  is  to  ascertain  how  we  may  determine  whe- 
ther we  are  the  friends  or  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of 
Christ.  Applying  these  obvious  principles  for  determin- 
ing the  characteristics  of  friendship  or  enmity,  I  shall  now 
call  your  attention  to  several  particulars  which  may  aid 
us  in  deciding  this  momentous  question.    I  observe,  then, 

(1.)  That  those  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF  CHRIST.  199 

in  the  church  who  have  not  been  bom  again.   The  proof 
of  this  is  brief,  but  unquestionable.     For,  "  the  carnal 
mind  is  enmity  with  God,"  and  men  are  by  nature  "  dead 
in  trespasses  and  in  sins,"  and  unrenewed  men  are  "  the 
children  of  the  wicked  one."  There  are  but  two  spiritual 
empires  in  this  world — the  kingdom  of  light,  and  the 
kingdom  of  darkness  ;  the  empire  over  which  God  rules, 
and  the  empire  over  which  Satan  is  the  absolute  monarch. 
They  who  are  not  the  subjects  of  the  one,  are  the  sub- 
jects of  the  other ;  and  they  who  have  not,  by  the  new 
birth,  been  translated  out  of  the  "  kingdom  of  darkness 
into  the  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son,"  are  still  the  sub- 
jects of  the  enemy  of  man.     God  is  building  up  a  king- 
dom on  the  earth  ;  and  it  is  done  by  a  change  in  character, 
and  views,  and  feelings,  the  most  momentous  and  tho- 
rough that  the  mind  ever  undergoes.     In  the  Bible  it  is 
designated  as  "  life  from  the  dead,"  and  as  a  "  new  crea- 
tion ;"  and  it  is  impossible  that  this  change  should  take 
place  and  no  evidence  be  furnished  of  it ;  or  that  it  should 
occur  and  produce  no  diiference  in  the  life.     Can  the 
vegetable  world  again  bloom  with  beauty  in  the  return- 
ing spring  after  the  long  death  of  winter,  and  give  no  evi- 
dence of  life  ?  Can  the  buds  open,  and  the  flowers  blos- 
som, and  the  grass  carpet  the  earth,  and  yet  all  be  as 
cold  and  sterile  as  in  the  winter  ?    Could  the  now  pale, 
and  stiff,  and  mouldering  corpses  under  ground  leave 
their  graves  and  come  forth,  and  yet  there  be  no  evidence 
of  life  ?    Could  the  sun  rise  suddenly  at  midnight,  and 
shed  his  beams  on  the  dark  world,  and  there  be  no  evi- 
dence of  the  mighty  change  ?    And  can  a  sinner  dead  in 
sins  be  quickened  into  life  by  the  power  of  God's  Spirit, 
and  still  there  be  no  life  ?    Can  the  powers  of  the  soul, 
long  torpid  and  chill  in  the  dreary  winter  of  sin,  be 
warmed  and  animated  with  the  love  of  God,  and  no  one 
know  it  ?  Can  the  pure  light  of  the  Sun  of  righteousness 
pour  its  beams  into  the  soul  darkened  by  sin,  and  all  be 
as  benighted  as  ever  ?  Can  the  slave  in  sin  be  set  at  liber- 
ty ;  can  the  gospel  touch  his  shackles,  and  his  limbs  feel 
the  manly  impulse  of  the  freedom  of  the  sons  of  God, 
and  he  continue  to  feel  and  act  as  if  he  v/ere  still  a  slave  ? 
Can  the  poor  maniac  be  restored  to  his  right  mind ;  the 
wandering  eye  of  the  lunatic  become  settled  and  calm, 


200  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

and  no  one  know  it  ?  Can  he  who  has  all  his  Ufe  hated 
eternal  and  infinite  excellence,  be  brought  to  love  it,  and 
the  soul  itself  be  ignorant  of  the  amazing  transformation? 
And  can  he  who  has  despised  the  cross,  and  trampled  the 
blood  of  the  covenant  beneath  his  feet,  embrace  that  cross 
as  the  only  foundation  of  his  hope  of  heaven,  and  yet 
give  so  dubious  indications  of  the  change  that  no  one 
shall  know  it,  or  suspect  it  from  his  conduct  ? 

Herein  is  the  origin  of  all  our  leanness.  I  verily  be- 
lieve that  the  true  source  of  the  coldness  and  deadness  of 
professing  Christians  is  to  be  found  in  low  and  inadequate 
views  of  the  nature  of  conversion  to  God.  We  linger  at 
the  threshold  of  life.  We  have  not  yet  settled  the  great 
point  whether  there  is  such  a  thing  as  regeneration,  or 
whether  "  there  be  any  Holy  Ghost."  Multitudes  have 
no  correct  views  of  the  great  change  which  takes  place 
when  the  soul  is  renewed,  nor  have  they  any  belief  of 
the  truth  which  the  Bible  reveals  on  that  subject.  They 
speak  of  seriousness,  instead  of  regeneration.  They 
talk  of  being  thoughtful,  instead  of  being  converted. 
They  have  some  indistinct  image  of  an  external  work, 
while  the  Bible  describes  it  as  passing  from  death  to  life. 
They  seem  to  suppose  that  the  act  of  becoming  connected 
with  the  church  is  to  be  attended  with  a  breaking  off 
from  some  open  sins ;  that  they  are  to  take  their  leave  of 
the  grosser  forms  of  iniquity,  and  that  they  are,  for  the 
time  at  least,  to  give  themselves  to  increased  seriousness. 
But  do  they  speak  of  a  mighty,  thorough,  transforming 
change,  as  the  Bible  does  ?  Have  they  any  sympathy 
with  the  description  of  the  new  birth  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment ?  Know  they  any  thing  of  compunction  for  sin  ;  of 
grief  that  they  are  poor,  and  polluted  before  God  ;  of  the 
joys  of  pardon ;  of  the  new  views  of  the  glory  and 
grandeur  of  the  divine  character  as  now  seen  in  the  Son  of 
God  ?  Is  there  a  new  heart ;  a  new  life  ;  a  new  conver- 
sation ?  Are  there  new  hopes  ;  new  joys  ;  new  objects  of 
pursuit?  Or  is  there  amidst  the  seriousness  some  plan  for 
compromising  matters  with  God,  and  an  enquiry  even 
then  how  the  hold  on  the  world  may  be  continued?  Is 
there  still  a  purpose,  while  the  decencies  of  the  Christian 
profession  shall  be  maintained,  to  grasp  still  as  much  of 
the  world  as  possible ;  to  pray  as  little  as  possible ;  to  be 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  201 

as  gay,  and  as  fashionable,  and  as  happy  m  the  world  as 
may  possibly  consist  with  the  Christian  profession  ?  I 
tremble  when  I  think  of  a  man  just  entering  on  the  pro- 
fessed Christian  life,  endeavoring  to  make  a  compromise 
with  God,  and  a  league  with  the  world  ;  attempting  to 
make  light  and  darkness,  and  heaven  and  liell  meet 
together. 

Here,  I  repeat  it,  is  the  source  of  our  difficulties.  It 
consists  in  low,  and  unscriptural,  and  unsatisfactory  views 
of  conversion  to  God.  And  the  influence  of  those  views 
spreads  through  all  the  life,  and  moulds  the  character.  But 
the  truth  of  the  Scriptures  on  this  point  is  plain.  There 
is  no  religion  where  there  has  been  no  conversion  3  and 
if  in  our  personal  experience  we  have  not  known  what 
the  Saviour  meant  by  the  new  birth,  our  hopes  of  heaven 
are  built  on  the  sand.  If  his  language  on  this  subject  is 
to  us  mysticism  or  fanaticism ;  if  we  do  not  know  what 
is  meant  by  the  new  creation,  and  by  the  life  from  the 
dead,  and  by  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  the  heart, 
and  by  the  peace  that  passeth  all  understanding,  I  would 
tell  you,  even  weeping,  that  we  are  the  enemies  of  the 
cross  of  Christ ! 

(2.)  They  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  who 
are  living  in  the  indulgence  of  any  known  sin.  It  was 
the  indulgence  of  a  single  sin,  and  not  any  general  de- 
pravity of  manners,  that  determined  the  character  of 
Achan  and  of  Judas.  It  needs  no  argument  to  show 
that  the  man  that  is  seeking  my  hurt  in  any  way,  is  my 
enemy ;  and  that  he  who  is  aiding  and  abetting  a  foe  in 
the  smallest  matters,  is  to  be  set  down  as  a  traitor  to  his 
country.  It  is  not  in  great  transactions  that  the  charac- 
ter is  best  determined.  He  who  gives  a  foe  information 
of  a  weak  point  in  a  fortress,  is  as  really  an  enemy  to  his 
country  as  if  he  were  to  surrender  the  garrison ;  and  he 
who  furnishes  an  enemy  with  a  small  boat  for  his  ser- 
vice, is  as  really  a  traitor  to  his  country  as  though  it  v^''ere 
a  ship  of  the  hue.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  our  Saviour 
said,  "If  thy  right  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out,  and  cast 
it  from  thee,  that  thy  whole  body  be  not  cast  into  hell." 
Matth.  V.  29,  30.  And  for  this  reason  David  said,  "  If  I 
regard  iniquity  in  my  heart,  the  Lord  will  not  hear  me;" 
and  for  this  reason  he  exclaimed,  "  Who  can  understand 


202  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

his  errors  ?  Cleanse  thou  me  from  secret  faults."    Psal. 
xix.  12. 

It  is  perfectly  manifest,  that  the  man  who  indulges  de- 
liberately in  any  known  sin,  is  the  foe  of  his  Maker.  He 
shows  that  he  disregards  his  authority,  and  despises  the 
work  of  Christ,  for  he  came  that  he  might  "  cleanse  us 
from  all  iniquity."  It  matters  not  what  this  sin  is ;  nor 
is  it  to  be  supposed  that  it  is  the  same  in  all.  It  may  be 
levity,  pride,  ambition,  envy,  malice,  backbiting,  or  covet- 
ousness.  It  may  be  a  purpose  of  revenge  for  a  real  or 
supposed  affront.  It  may  be  an  unwillingness  to  confess 
a  fault,  and  to  ask  for  pardon.  It  may  be  a  refusal  to 
make  restitution  for  an  injury  done  to  a  neighbor's  per- 
son or  property.  It  may  be  the  indulgence  of  an  unholy 
temper,  or  an  unhallowed  filling  the  mind  with  images 
of  sensuality  and  licentiousness.  It  may  be  an  incessant 
aspiring  after  the  honors  of  the  world,  or  a  desire  for  its 
wealth  that  is  never  at  ease,  and  that  is  never  satisfied. 
It  may  be  a  habit  of  murmuring  at  the  allotments  of 
Providence,  and  the  indulgence  of  envious  feelings  that 
others  are  more  honored,  or  more  prospered  than  our- 
selves. It  may  be  attachment  to  some  idol,  or  incon- 
solable grief  that  some  object  of  affection  has  been  re- 
moved by  the  hand  of  God.  Whatever  it  is,  hostility  to 
the  cross  is  evinced  by  its  indulgence ;  and  the  man  as 
certainly  shows  that  he  is  the  enemy  of  Christ,  as  if  he 
had  driven  the  nails  that  fastened  him  to  the  tree,  or  plait- 
ed for  him  the  crown  of  thorns.  '  I  kept  the  raiment  of 
those  that  stoned  the  martyr  Stephen,'  said  Paul ;  and 
though  he  did  not  throw  a  stone,  he  regarded  himself  as 
not  meet  to  be  an  apostle.  One  of  the  very  elements  of 
Christianity  is,  that  he  who  does  not  desire  to  renounce 
every  thing  that  is  sinful,  is  the  enemy  of  God. 

(3.)  Those  who  are  pursuing  a  doubtful  and  undecided 
course  of  conduct  without  any  effort  to  know  what  is 
right,  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  An  honest 
man,  a  sincere  Christian,  will  be  willing  to  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  all  his  faults.  He  will  not  turn  away  his 
ear  from  reproof,  but  will  candidly  and  prayerfully  de- 
sire to  know  what  is  the  will  of  God.  For  it  is  one  of 
the  very  elements  of  Christianity,  that  a  man  should  come 
to  Christ  as  a  little  child,  and  be  willing  to  sit  at  his  feet. 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  203 

It  is  an  indispensable  requisite  that  he  should  be  desirous 
of  knowing  his  Lord's  will,  and  of  ascertaining  what 
God  requires  at  his  hand. 

Now,  there  may  be  many  courses  of  conduct  which  to 
the  mind  of  a  professed  Christian  must  be,  to  say  the 
least,  of  very  doubtful  propriety.  It  must  be  a  serious 
question,  whether  they  can  be  reconciled  with  the  spirit 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  with  the  stern  and  uncom- 
promising principles  of  Christianity.  Whether,  for  instance, 
a  certain  style  of  living  and  expense  be  such  as  Christ 
will  approve;  whether  the  indulgence  of  certain  feelings 
be  such  as  are  consistent  with  Christianity;  whether  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  business  be  such  as  a  Christian  should  pursue  ; 
whether  a  man's  expenditure  for  personal  adorning,  or 
for  his  family,  and  his  gratification  be  right ;  and  whether 
his  expenditures  for  tlie  purpose  of  doing  good  and  the 
salvation  of  the  world,  are  such  as  are  demanded  by  the 
gospel  of  Christ ;  these  and  a  hundred  similar  questions 
must  come  before  the  mind  of  each  professor  of  religion, 
and  ought  to  receive  a  prompt  and  intelligent  decision. 

The  position  which  is  now  before  us  is,  that  a  man  who 
will  pursue  a  course  of  life  which  is  of  doubtful  propriety, 
and  on  which  his  own  mind  is  not  satisfied  that  it  is  con- 
sistent with  Christianity,  without  any  pains  to  know  what 
is  right,  is  the  enemy  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  He  gives 
evidence  that  he  has  never  learned  the  very  first  princi- 
ples of  religion,  the  principles  requiring  him  to  submit 
his  will  to  the  will  of  God.  I  refer  to  such  cases  as  the 
following.  (L)  Where  a  man  has  every  reason  to  believe 
that  if  he  were  to  examine  his  course  of  life  by  the  Bible 
he  would  find  it  to  be  wrong,  and  yet  continues  to  pursue 
it  ivithout  examination,  and  because  he  is  umvilling  to 
be  convinced.  (2.)  W^here  a  man  is  told  by  his  friends 
that  a  certain  course  of  life  is  evil,  and  yet  is  resolved  to 
pursue  it  without  further  notice  or  attention  to  the  inquiry. 
(3.)  Where  he  becomes  angry  with  a  friend  that  would 
convince  him  of  the  error  of  his  course,  or  where  he  as- 
sumes an  air  of  indifference  or  contempt  in  the  sanctuary 
where  such  subjects  come  up  for  discussion.  (4.)  Where 
the  subject  occupies  public  attention  and  discussion,  and 
he  will  neither  read,  nor  converse,  nor  pray  on  it,  but  is 
resolved  to  brave  public  opinion  and  the  Bible.     And  (5.) 


204  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Where  he  will  not  pray,  and  examine,  and  make  it  his 
business  to  ascertain  whether  he  is,  or  is  not,  pursuing  a 
course  of  hfe  that  shall  please  God.  In  all  these  cases,  he 
is  evidently  an  enemy  of  the  cross  of  Christ :  for  he 
evinces  just  the  spirit  which  the  enemies  of  God  do 
always,  and  which  a  true  Christian  can  never.  The  men 
of  the  world  pursue  their  own  ways  ;  will  not  be  admon- 
ished ;  will  not  stop  to  inquire  whether  their  course  is  one 
that  pleases  God ;  and  become  irritated  and  vexed  if 
God  by  his  Providence  or  his  Spirit  so  far  interferes  with 
their  doings,  as  to  call  in  question  the  propriety  of  their 
conduct.  And  when  professing  Christians  do  the  same 
thing,  they  show  that  they  have  the  same  spirit,  and  that 
they  have  never  been  born  again.  You  pursue  a  course 
of  life,  it  may  be,  for  which  your  conscience  reproves 
you,  and  for  which  the  world  reproaches  you,  and  which 
real  Christians  think  to  be  wrong,  and  which  you  have 
every  reason  to  think  the  Bible  condemns,  and  yet  you 
are  at  no  pains  to  examine  it.  You  continue  to  pursue 
it  from  year  to  year,  and  you  thus  show,  that  you  are  an 
utter  stranger  to  the  very  elements  of  that  gospel  which 
Paul  embraced  when  he  said,  ''  Lord  lohat  ivilt  thou 
have  me  to  doV^ 

(4.)  They  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ  among 
his  professed  friends,  who  manifest  in  their  conduct  none 
of  the  peculiarities  of  those  who  truly  love  him.  There 
is  something  that  constitutes  the  peculiarity,  the  essential 
nature,  of  the  Christian  religion.  There  was  something 
which  distinguished  the  Lord  Jesus  from  the  mass  of  men, 
and  which  constituted  the  peculiarity  of  his  character. 
There  is  something — whatever  it  may  be — which  is  re- 
quired in  the  New  Testament  as  the  distinguishing  evi- 
dence of  attachment  to  the  Lord  Jesus.  There  is  soyne- 
thing  which  is  to  serve  to  distinguish  Christians  from 
other  men,  or  the  religion  is  worthless.  Now,  my  position 
is,  that,  whatever  this  is,  unless  lue  possess  it,  we  are  the 
enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  Whatever  this  is,  it  is  not 
external  morality,  for  many  men  of  the  world  are  moral 
men.  It  is  not  amiableness  of  temper,  for  many  of  them  are 
amiable  and  kind.  It  is  not  simply  honesty  and  integrity, 
for  many  of  them  are  honest.  It  is  something  which  is 
to  distinguish  us  from  all  the  men  of  the  world,  and  it 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  205 

we  are  destitute  of  that,  our  profession  is  "  sounding  brass 
and  a  tinkling  cymbol." 

But  how,  perhaps  it  may  be  asked,  does  it  appear  that 
there  is  to  be  any  thing  pecuUar  in  the  Christian  profes- 
sion ?  I  answer.  It  is  not  the  nature  of  rehgion  to  be 
hid.  Men  do  not  hght  a  candle  to  put  it  under  a  bushel. 
I  answer  further,  that  the  stupendous  truths  of  redemp- 
tion are  not  brought  to  bear  upon  the  human  soul  that  it 
might  be  just  what  it  was  before.  Did  Christ  die  that 
his  followers  might  be  just  like  other  men  ?  Was  his 
precious  blood  shed  on  Calvary  that  his  followers  might 
be  undistinguished  in  the  mighty  mass  of  sinners  ?  Did 
the  Son  of  God  toil  and  bleed  that  the  kingdom  which  he 
reared  might  be  just  like  all  other  kingdoms?  Did  the 
apostles  labor,  and  suffer,  and  die  as  martyrs  that  they 
might  leave  the  world  as  they  found  it  ?  And  does  the 
Holy  Ghost  effect  the  mighty  change  of  the  new  creation 
in  the  soul,  that  the  man  might  be  just  what  he  was  be- 
fore ?  And  are  the  solemn  truths  pertaining  to  God's 
authority,  and  to  heaven  and  hell,  brought  to  bear  on  the 
conscience,  that  the  friends  of  Christ  may  be  just  as  worldly 
minded,  and  as  gay,  and  as  prayerless,  and  as  vain,  and  as 
ambitious,  as  other  men  ?  Are  morality  and  kindness  alone 
to  be  baptized,  and  are  these  all  that  the  blood  of  the 
Saviour  purchased  on  the  cross  ?  Then  were  those  pangs 
in  vain.  And  then  this  stupendous  scheme  of  the  incar- 
nation and  death  of  God's  own  Son,  was  a  scheme  of 
most  mighty  preparation  for  most  unimportant  results. 
Bat  it  is  not  so.  He  designed  that  religion  should  be 
seen,  and  known,  and  felt.  He  meant  that  his  people 
should  be  a  peculiar  people.  He  intended  to  rear  a  king- 
dom unlike  all  other  kingdoms  ;  to  be  at  the  head  of  an 
empire  unlike  all  other  empires  ;  and  to  marshal  an  im- 
mense host  that  should  shine  like  the  stars  of  night,  or 
like  suns,  in  the  darkness  of  a  lost  world.  And  if  we 
have  not  the  peculiarities  of  his  friends,  we  are  the  ene- 
mies of  his  cross ! 

I  close  this  discourse  by  observing,  that  were  the  dis- 
cussion to  end  here,  perhaps  enough  has  been  already 
said  to  destroy  the  false  hopes  of  some  who  now  hear 
me.  I  have  specified  four  particulars ;  and  there  may 
be  many  professors  who,  if  weighed  in  these  balances, 

18 


206  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

would  be  found  wanting : — many  who  have  not  the 
slightest  evidence  that  they  have  ever  been  regener- 
ated; who  are  habitually  indulging  in  some  known 
sin  without  any  effort  to  overcome  it ;  who  are  pur- 
suing a  doubtful  course  of  life  without  any  pains  taken  to 
inquire  whether  it  be  consistent  with  the  New  Testament 
or  not,  and  who  are  conscious  that  they  have  none  of  the 
peculiarities  which  went  to  make  up  the  character  of 
Christ ;  who  are  conscious  that  they  have  never  formed 
a  plan,  or  performed  an  action,  which  the  man  of  the 
world  might  not  do,  and  who  have  never  put  forth  one 
effort  solely  to  promote  the  glory  of  God. 

If  this  be  the  state  of  the  mind  in  any  case,  the  con- 
clusion is  inevitable.  Light  has  no  fellowship  with  dark- 
ness, nor  Christ  with  Belial.  Painful  as  is  the  conclusion, 
yet  we  are  to  remember  that  an  enemy  hath  sown  tares 
in  the  great  field  which  God  will  soon  reap,  and  that  the 
proof  is  clear  in  the  New  Testament  that  the  enemies  of 
Christ  will  in  various  ways  come  into  his  church.  It  was 
from  no  wish  to  give  pain  that  the  Saviour  stated  this 
doctrine,  and  it  is  from  no  wish  to  produce  pain  that  it  is 
now  repeated.  ''  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend." 
Timely  admonition  evinces  more  friendship  than  an  at- 
tempt to  "■  daub  with  untempered  mortar,"  or  to  "  cry 
peace,  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace."  Not  in  words 
only,  therefore ;  not  in  the  way  of  professional  duty  merely, 
but  in  the  sober  language  of  friendship,  and  with  the  ap- 
prehensions of  just  alarm,  do  I  exhort  each  professor 
to  examine  his  heart,  and  his  life.  For  soon  these  eyes 
will  open  upon  the  judgment  seat ;  and  soon  our  own 
ears  will  hear  the  words  addressed  to  many  unhappy 
mortals,  once  professors  of  the  religion  of  Christ,  "  De- 
part from  me,  I  never  knew  you." 

I  anticipate  that  this  discourse  will  give  pain,  if  pain 
at  aU,  where  it  is  least  desirable  that  it  should  be  done. 
The  humble,  pious,  modest,  praying,  real  Christian,  is 
usually  the  one  who  is  most  alarmed  by  appeals  like 
this.  The  man  deceived  ;  the  cold,  formal  professor ;  the 
one  really  intended,  and  who  is  really  the  enemy  of  the 
cross  of  Christ,  is  usually  the  man  least  affected,  least 
moved,  least  concerned.  Judas  was  the  last  man  at  the 
table  to  express  concern  when  the  Saviour  said  that  one 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  207 

of  them  would  betray  him.  "Lord  is  it  I?"  was  the 
reluctant,  and  hollow  language  of  the  traitor  at  last.  And 
the  last  man  who  might  ask  the  question  here, '  am  I  un- 
renewed, am  I  indulging  in  known  sin,  am  I  pursuing  a 
doubtful  course  of  life,  am  I  failing  to  exhibit  the  peculiar 
spirit  of  a  Christian,'  might  not  improbably  be  the  very 
one  who  has  most  undoubted  evidence  of  being  the  enemy 
of  the  cross  of  Christ.  Such  are  not  alarmed.  They 
thank  not  the  Saviour  for  his  admonitions  and  reproofs. 
Let  us  take  to  ourselves  words  and  turn  to  the  Lord  and 
say,  "  Search  me,  0  God,  and  know  my  heart ;  try  me, 
and  know  my  thoughts ;  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked 
way  m  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting." 


SERMON  XIV. 

ENEMIES  OF  THE   CROSS  OF  CHRIST.      NO.  2. 

Phil.  iii.  18.  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now 
tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

From  these  words,  in  the  last  discourse,  I  proposed  to 
consider  the  following  points  : 

I.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  many  professors  of 
religion  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

II.  What  are  the  characteristics  of  that  enmity,  or  how 
may  it  be  known  that  they  are  such  ;  and 

III.  Why  is  the  fact  of  their  being  in  the  church  an 
occasion  of  grief  and  tears. 

The  first  point  was  considered ;  and  also  four  specifi- 
cations under  the  second  head  were  suggested.  I  specified 
the  following  classes  as  being  his  enemies,  though  in  the 
church  : 

(1.)  Those  who  have  not  been  born  again  or  regene- 
rated ;  (2.)  those  who  are  living  in  the  practice  of  any 
known  sin  ;  (3.)  those  who  are  pursuing  a  doubtful  course 
of  life  without  any  pains  taken  to  ascertain  whether  it  is 
right  or  wrong;  and  (4.)  those  who  in  their  conduct 
manifest  none  of  the  peculiarities  of  those  who  truly  love 
him. 

In  the  prosecution  of  the  subject  at  this  time,  I  pro- 
pose to  call  your  attention  to  some  additional  particulars 
which  are  expressive  of  hostility  to  him  among  those  who 
professedly  love  him.  Resuming  the  subject  where  we 
then  left  oif,  I  observe, 

(5.)  In  the  fifth  place,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the 
cross  of  Christ  among  his  professed  friends,  who  have  a 
deeper  interest  in  their  worldly  affairs  than  they  have  in 
the  cause  of  the  Redeemer.  This  is  the  particular  thing 
that  is  specified  in  the  verse  succeeding  my  text.  Paul, 
giving  an  account  of  the  professors  of  religion  at  Philippi 
whom  he  regarded  as  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ, 
describes  them  as  those  who  "  mind  earthly  things  ;'' 

208 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OP    CHRIST.  209 

that  is,  whose  supreme  care  was  manifested  for  the 
things  of  this  Ufe.  "  Our  conversation,"  he  elsewhere 
says,  speaking  of  true  Christians,  "  is  in  heaven  ;"  their 
plans  and  thoughts  pertain  to  the  things  of  the  earth,  and 
they  thus  show,  though  they  are  professors  of  religion, 
the  real  principles  by  which  they  are  actuated.  And  in 
the  second  chapter  of  this  epistle,  when  describing  per- 
sons of  a  similar  character,  he  says,  "  For  all  seek  their 
own,  not  the  things  which  are  Jesus  Christ's."  Chap.  ii. 
21.  And  again,  in  2  Timothy  iii.  2,  when  describing  a 
period  of  great  apostasy  and  general  declension  in  reli- 
gion, he  says,  as  tlie  characteristics  of  those  times,  '-''  Men 
shall  be  lovers  of  their  own  selves."  This  is  the  esta- 
bUshed  mode  of  judging  men's  real  character  in  the  New 
Testament.  "  By  their  fruit,"  was  the  Saviour's  rule, 
"  shall  ye  know  them."  "  Men  do  not  gather  grapes  of 
thorns,  nor  figs  of  thistles."  When  we  see  a  shrul3  pro- 
ducing only  thorns,  we  judge  that  it  is  a  thorn-bush  ; 
when  producing  only  thistles,  we  judge  that  it  is  a  thistle. 
My  proposition  is,  that  where  men  have  a  deeper  in- 
terest in  worldly  affairs  than  they  have  in  the  cause  of 
Christ,  they  are  strangers  to  his  rehgion.  The  proof  of 
this  proposition  lies  in  a  nut-shell.  For  (1.)  The  Re- 
deemer himself  said,  "  He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against 
me."  (2.)  There  must  be  some  way  of  accurately  ar- 
riving at  a  knowledge  of  character  ;  and  there  is  no  better 
way  than  to  observe  a  man's  habitual  walk  and  conver- 
sation. Character  is  the  result  of  conduct.  It  is  not  a 
single  deed ;  it  is  not  a  temporary  ebullition  of  feeling. 
We  do  not  attribute  the  tried  character  of  virtue  to  the 
man  who  has  resisted  a  single  temptation ;  nor  of  hero- 
ism to  the  man  who  has  been  engaged  in  a  single  con- 
flict. It  is  the  man  who  has  been  often  tempted,  and  who 
has  successfully  resisted  temptation,  to  whom  we  award 
the  praise  of  virtue ;  and  it  is  the  hero  of  many  battles, 
and  many  scars,  to  whom  we  ascribe  valor.  We  ask,  in 
determining  character,  what  is  the  tenor  of  the  man's 
Hfe  ;  what  it  is  that  will  call  forth  the  latent  principles  of 
his  soul  ?  If  it  be  to  make  money,  we  then  say  that  that  is 
his  character.  If  it  be  to  become  honored,  we  then  say  so. 
If  it  be  to  shine  in  the  gay  circle,  we  then  say  so.  And 
if  the  habitual  purpose  of  the  life  be,  that  the  man  cares 

18* 


210  •  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

more  for  the  things  of  this  world  than  he  does  for  the 
cause  of  Christ ;  if  they  occupy  more  of  his  time  and 
thoughts;  if  his  actions  and  his  plans  are  just  like  those 
of  the  men  of  this  world,  and  just  such  as  Satan  would 
have  them  to  be,  he  is  the  enemy  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 
(3.)  The  interests  of  Christ's  kingdom  are  intended  to 
be  supreme.  He  seeks  no  divided  sway,  and  rules  over 
no  divided  empire.  He  came  not  to  establish  a  kingdom 
that  should  be  just  like  all  other  kingdoms,  nor  to  sit  on 
a  throne  that  is  occupied  by  a  rival.  "  If  any  man  come 
to  me,"  is  his  language,  "  and  hate  not  his  father,  and 
mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and  sis- 
ters, yea,  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  dis- 
ciple." Luke  xiv.  26.  If  the  interests  of  his  kingdom, 
therefore,  are  not  supreme  in  the  affections,  and  if  a  man 
is  not  ready  to  sacrifice  all  other  interests  to  his,  he  is  the 
enemy  of  his  cross.  (4.)  The  principles  of  the  Cluistian 
religion  cannot  lie  dormant  in  the  soul.  If  those  princi- 
ples exist,  they  will  be  manifested.  Christians  are  to  be 
the  light  of  the  world ;  and  a  light  is  not  kindled  that  it 
may  be  put  under  a  bushel.  Religion  consists  in  love 
to  God  and  love  to  man.  Can  that  love  exist,  and  yet 
the  man  always  act  as  if  it  did  not  exist?  Religion 
consists  in  meekness,  forgiveness,  joy,  peace,  long-suifer- 
ing,  temperance,  charity.  Can  these  exist  in  the  heart, 
and  yet  a  man  act  just  as  though  they  did  not  ?  Religion 
consists  in  self-denial,  in  bearing  the  cross,  in  crucifying 
the  flesh  with  the  aff'ections  and  lusts.  Can  those  princi- 
ples exist,  and  yet  the  man  be  just  as  self-indulgent,  just 
as  much  seeking  the  pleasures  and  enjoyments  of  this 
life  as  the  men  of  the  world  ?  Religion  is  holiness,  not 
more  morality;  it  is  conformity  to  Christ,  not  conformity 
to  an  imaginary  standard  of  excellence.  Can  that  exist, 
and  yet  the  man  in  his  manner  of  life  be  jnst  like  all  other 
men  ?  Was  there  nothing  in  which  Jesus  Christ  was  dis- 
tinguished from  the  world  ? 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  piety  should  be  retiring,  and 
unseen.  Religion  it  is  said,  is  a  secret  principle  of  the 
soul.  It  shrinks  back  from  the  public  gaze,  and  seeks 
concealment,  and  should  not  seek  publicity.  But  why  is 
this  said  ?  There  is  nothing  of  it  in  the  Bible  ;  but  every 
thing  there  is  just  the  contrary.     Hypocrisy,  and  mere 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  211 

profession,  and  ostentation,  and  sounding  a  trumpet,  «7'e 
rebuked.  But  I  ask  a  man  to  point  me  to  a  single  pas- 
sage in  the  Bible  where  the  manifestation  of  pure  religion 
is  rebuked.  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,"  is  the 
language  of  the  Redeemer,  "  that  they  may  see  your  good 
works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  "  He 
that  is  ashamed  of  me,  and  of  my  words  before  men,  of 
him  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  ashamed  when  he  shall  come 
in  his  own  glory,  and  with  the  glory  of  the  Father  and 
with  the  holy  angels."  Religion,  in  the  Bible,  is  supposed 
to  be  prominent,  and  manifest,  if  it  exists  at  all.  It  is  to 
constitute  the  character ;  it  is  to  distinguish  the  man. 
I  point  you  to  the  example  of  Christ.  Religion  is  every 
thing  in  his  life.  I  point  you  to  the  example  of  Paul. 
You  see  nothing  else  in  his  life  but  his  religion.  Among 
Greeks,  and  Jews,  and  Barbarians,  it  is  alike  developed. 
I  point  you  to  David,  and  Isaiah,  and  John,  and  the  holy 
martyrs,  and  ask  what  were  their  principles  ?  The  men 
were  modest  men  ;  but  their  religion  was  open  and  bold. 
It  constituted  their  very  character ;  and  is  that,  and  that 
alone,  by  which  they  are  known.  And  thus  it  is  in  all 
the  works  and  doings  of  God.  Is  the  sun  that  rides  these 
heavens  ashamed  to  shine  ;  and  does  he  hide  his  noontide 
beams  under  the  plea  that  pure  light  should  not  be  osten- 
tatious? Is  the  moon — that,  like  the  Christian  shines  by  re- 
flected light — ashamed  to  emit  its  rays,  and  to  sleep  on  the 
"bank"  and  the  silver  lake }  Are  the  stars — the  wandering 
or  the  fixed — ashamed  to  send  their  rays  on  a  darkened 
world  }  No.  Light,  pure,  rich,  varied,  dazzling,  shines 
forth  from  these  heavens  by  day  and  by  night,  just  as  the 
light  of  the  Christian's  example  is  to  be  poured  on  the 
darkness  of  the  world.  It  shines  not  indeed  for  display, 
but  for  use  ;  not  for  its  own  glory,  but  like  the  light  that 
should  radiate  from  the  Christian's  life,  to  illustrate  the 
glory  of  the  Great  Creator.  And  thus  it  is  in  all  God's 
works.  The  ocean  that  he  has  made  is  not  ashamed  to 
roll ;  the  lightning  of  heaven  to  play ;  the  oak  to  spread 
out  its  boughs  ;  the  flower  to  bloom.  The  humblest  violet 
on  which  we  tread  is  not  ashamed  to  exhibit  its  beauty, 
and  display  its  JNIaker's  praise  ;  nor  will  the  obscurest 
light  in  the  true  Christian's  soul  seek  to  be  hid.  Light 
is  kindled  there  to  shine  on  the  darkness  of  a  lost  world. 


212  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

And  if  Christian  light  does  not  shine  forth  in  the  life,  we 
have  the  highest  evidence  that  it  has  never  been  en- 
kindled in  the  bosom. 

The  conclusion,  therefore,  is  inevitable,  that  where  men 
have  a  deeper  interest  in  the  things  of  this  world  than  they 
have  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  they  are  the  enemies  of  his 
cross.  They  are  pursuing  the  course  which  the  grand 
enemy  of  that  cross  would  wish  them  to  pursue.  My 
meaning  here  will  not  be  misunderstood.  I  refer  to  the 
cases  where  the  concerns  of  this  world  are  allowed  to 
engross  all  a  man's  time  ;  Avhere  this  is  the  primary  object 
of  his  solicitude  ;  where  it  constitutes  his  character,  and 
is  that  by  which  he  is  every  where  known ;  and  where 
nothing  will  excite  an  interest  in  religion,  further  than 
the  formality  of  its  external  observances.  The  character 
of  such  a  man  is  that  of  a  worldly  man.  He  is  living  as 
worldly  men  live,  and  as  the  enemy  of  God  would  wish 
him  to  live,  in  estrangement  from  all  the  vital  principles 
of  the  kingdom  of  the  Saviour ;  and  he  must  be  judged 
accordingly. 

(6.)  They  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ  in  his 
church,  whom  nothing  can  induce  to  give  up  their  worldly 
concerns  for  the  cause  of  religion  when  God  demands  it. 

1  begin  the  illustration  of  this,  by  remarking,  that,  it  is 
to  be  feared,  there  is  a  great  and  radical  mistake  on  this 
point,  in  the  feelings  and  language  of  most  men.  The 
mistake  to  which  I  refer  is,  a  feeling  that  time,  and  talents, 
and  strength,  belong  of  right  to  us.  We  speak  of  our  time, 
our  talents,  our  property.  We  hear  men  use  the  language 
of  complete  self-appropriation,  not  in  the  qualified  sense 
which  they  will  use  who  believe  that  all  belongs  of  right 
to  God,  but  in  the  sense  of  3.bso\ute  proprietorship.  And 
this  is  not  the  language  of  the  professed  men  of  this  world 
merely,  but  of  the  professed  friends  of  God.  The  mis- 
take to  which  I  refer  is,  that  of  regarding  time  as  ours, 
and  talent  as  ours,  and  wealth  as  ours.  For  the  truth 
is,  that  the  affairs  of  this  life,  as  well  as  the  business 
of  prayer  and  praise,  should  be  pursued  because  this  is 
a  part  of  the  service  which  we  owe  to  God.  "  Whether, 
therefore,  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to 
the  glory  of  God.''  The  business  of  the  farm,  or  the 
countmg-room,  or  the  office,  should  be  conducted  with 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  213 

as  decided  reference  to  his  will  as  the  services  of  the 
sanctuary.  Nor  will  men  understand  the  true  nature 
of  religion  until  Christianity  is  suffered  to  assert  its 
claims  over  each  moment  of  time,  over  each  faculty  of 
mind  and  hody,  and  each  plan  of  life.  For  a  man  may 
just  as  easily,  and  with  just  as  much  propriety,  cultivate 
his  farm,  or  make  a  machine,  or  engage  in  commerce, 
with  a  direct  purpose  to  glorify  God,  and  to  honor  the 
gospel  in  his  appropriate  calling,  as  when  he  prays,  or 
reads  the  Bible,  or  goes  forth  as  a  missionary  to  save  the 
world. 

It  follov/s,  therefore,  that  the  gospel  was  designed  to 
overcome  the  love  of  the  world,  and  to  induce  men 
to  surrender  all  when  God  urges  his  claims.  For  the 
Redeemer  said,  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let 
him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and  follow 
me."  Luke  ix.  23.  "  Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead,  but 
follow  thou  me."  "  Whosoever  wilt  save  his  life  shall 
lose  it,  but  whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for  my  sake,  the 
same  shall  save  it.  For  what  is  a  man  advantaged  if  he 
gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  V^  Luke  ix. 
24 — 25.  "  If  any  man  come  to  me,  and  hate  not  his  father 
and  mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and 
sisters,  yea  and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  dis- 
ciple." Luke  xiv.  26. 

And  thus  we  judge  in  every  thing.  You  wish  to  try  a 
man's  patriotism.  He  has  a  dwelling  near  the  battle- 
field where  his  countrymen  have  fallen  in  defence  of 
freedom,  and  are  bleeding  on  the  cold  earth.  If  he  will 
not  open  his  dwelling  to  receive  the  wounded  soldier,  do 
you  esteem  him  to  be  friend  of  his  country }  You  wish 
to  know  whether  a  man  is  your  friend.  If  he  will  not  give 
up  his  own  petty  gratifications  to  aid  you  in  your  distress, 
Avill  you  esteem  him  to  be  such  ?  If  your  affairs  are 
tending  to  bankruptcy,  and  he  will  not  aid  you  ;  if  you 
arc  naked  and  he  will  not  clothe  you  ;  if  you  are  hungry, 
and  he  Avill  not  give  you  meat,  thirsty  and  he  will  not 
give  you  drink  ;  sick,  and  in  prison,  and  he  will  not  come 
near  to  alleviate  your  pains,  to  wipe  the  cold  sweat  from 
your  brow,  to  moisten  your  parched  lips,  will  you  regard 
his  professions  to  be  sincere ;  or  will  you  judge  them  to 
be  false,  and  hollow  ? 


214  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

These  principles  are  so  obvious  about  common  affairs 
that  they  need  no  further  ilhistration  ;  and  they  are  just 
as  obvious  in  religion.  My  position  is,  that  where  nothing 
will  induce  men  to  regard  their  worldly  concerns  as  sub- 
ordinate to  the  cause  of  Christ,  it  is  proof  that  they  are 
the  enemies  of  his  cross.  As  an  ilhistration  of  what  is 
meant  by  this  general  principle,  I  shall  refer  to  a  few  par- 
ticulars.    I  specify,  then, 

First,  amusements. — The  position  is,  that  if  a  professed 
follower  of  Christ  will  not  abandon  those  which  are  ob- 
viously and  certainly  inconsistent  with  the  gospel,  he  is 
the  enemy  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  If  he  is  engaged  in 
just  such  amusements  as  the  people  of  the  world  are ;  if 
he  engages  in  them  with  the  same  zest,  and  zeal,  and  at 
the  same  expense ;  if  he  evinces  the  same  gaiety,  levity, 
and  vanity  that  they  do,  it  is  proof  that  his  heart  is  not 
with  Jesus  Christ  and  his  cause,  but  with  them.  If  he 
is  in  the  habit  of  attending  places  which  he  knows  the 
Lord  Jesus  would  not  have  attended  ;  and  if  he  is  undis- 
tinguished in  feeling,  conversation,  and  deportment,  from 
the  gay  and  thoughtless  who  are  professedly  going  away 
from  heaven,  and  in  the  estimation  of  the  Christian  world 
going  down  to  hell,  it  proves  that  he  is  the  enemy  of  the 
cross  of  Christ.  If  he  has  a  deeper  interest  in  the  fash- 
ionable assembly  than  he  has  in  the  humble  place  where 
the  true  friends  of  God  seek  his  blessing  by  prayer,  who 
can  doubt  where  his  heart  is  ?  If  he  will  abridge,  or 
abandon  his  ordinary  and  proper  times  of  secret  devotion 
for  the  gaieties  of  the  fashionable  circle,  who  can  doubt 
what  is  the  real  spirit  that  actuates  his  bosom  ?  If  a  pro- 
fessed Christian,  in  relation  to  these  matters,  is  pursuing 
just  such  a  course  as  the  great  enemy  of  seriousness  and 
of  heaven  would  have  him  pursue  ;  if  he  is  found  in  just 
such  places,  and  making  just  such  parties,  and  indulging 
in  just  such  expenses  as  will  gratify,  not  the  Lord  Jesus, 
but  the  Prince  of  darkness,  he  thus  shows  that  he  is  the 
enemy  of  the  cross.  And  if  this  is  pursued  from  one 
year  to  another,  and  it  becomes  the  established  character 
that  the  course  of  life  is  just  such  as  will  gratify  Satan, 
and  pain  the  bosoms  of  the  friends  of  God,  the  character 
may  be  as  certainly  known  as  though  the  judgment-day 
were  already  past,  and  the  destiny  sealed. 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  215 

Secondly,  property. — If  a  man  will  not  surrender  it  to 
God  when  he  demands  it  for  his  service,  it  proves  that  he 
is  the  enemy  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  If  he  is  living  for  its 
acquisition  just  as  the  men  of  the  world  are  ;  if  he  grasps 
it  and  hoards  it  with  as  much  greediness  as  they  do ;  if 
it  be  the  characteristic  of  the  man  that  he  is  a  lover  of 
gold  rather  than  a  man  of  prayer,  it  is  a  demonstration  of 
his  character  which  cannot  be  mistaken.  If  he  pursues 
just  such  a  mode  of  life  as  the  enemy  of  God  would 
desire — is  just  as  avaricious,  and  selfish,  and  close  ;  or  just 
as  extravagant,  and  profuse  in  his  manner  of  living  as 
he  would  wish  him  to  be,  it  shows  that  he  is  the  enemy 
of  the  cross  of  Christ.  For  thus  we  judge  in  all  things. 
If  a  man  pursues  just  such  a  course  of  life  as  will  gratify 
the  enemies  of  his  country,  we  judge  that  he  is  in  their 
interest.  If  he  has  just  such  objects,  plans,  and  modes 
of  living,  as  an  enemy  would  prescribe  ;  if  he  is  living  so 
that  he  could  not  desire  a  change,  and  would  not  suggest 
an  alteration,  we  have  no  doubt  about  the  real  principles 
of  the  man.  His  own  countrymen  cannot  doubt ;  the 
enemy  cannot  doubt ;  the  Judge  of  all  cannot  doubt. 

Thirdly,  ti7ne. — When  professed  Christians  form  their 
own  schemes,  and  employ  all  their  hours  in  doing  their 
own  will ;  when  they  will  not  appropriate  that  which 
God  requires  for  prayer,  and  for  searching  the  Bible  ;  and 
when  they  will  not  devote  that  which  he  demands  in 
efforts  to  do  good  to  others,  it  shows  that  they  are  the 
enemies  of  the  cross.  When  tlieir  first  thoughts  in  the 
morning,  and  their  mid-day  plans,  and  their  last  thoughts 
at  night  are  of  the  world,  and  not  of  God,  there  is  an 
indication  which  is  infallible  of  the  true  state  of  their 
feeling.  When  a  man  professing  patriotism,  lives  just  as 
the  enemy  of  his  country  would  wish  ;  when  all  his  time 
is  employed  in  a  manner  that  goes  to  promote  his  plans, 
and  to  weaken  the  resources  of  his  country,  it  shows  that 
he  is  in  the  service  of  the  foe. 

(7.)  Those  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ  who 
are  opposed  to  all  that  is  peculiar  in  the  doctinnes  of 
Christianity.  One  of  the  first  things  which  the  Lord 
Jesus  has  required  is,  that  we  should  be  willing  to  receive 
the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child.  Nothing  is  more 
evident  than  that  where  there  is  an  unwillingness  to  re- 


216  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

ceive  as  truth  that  which  God  has  stated  to  be  truth ;  to 
admit  as  fact  that  which  he  has  declared  to  be  fact ;  and 
to  repose  sufficient  confidence  in  him  to  beUeve  what  he 
says,  that  there  can  be  no  true  love  to  Him,  and  no  real 
friendship  for  his  cause.  If  there  be,  therefore,  an  open 
opposition  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  or  a  secret  resis- 
tance of  those  truths,  it  proves  that  we  have  never  yet 
submitted  the  understanding  and  the  will  of  God.  I  refer 
to  such  cases  as  the  following.  (1.)  Where  a  professed 
friend  of  Christ  admits  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible  in 
general,  but  denies  them  in  detail.  (2.)  Where  he 
admits  such  doctrines  in  the  Bible  to  be  true  as  are  found 
in  systems  of  natural  religion,  but  doubts,  or  denies  those 
which  constitute  the  peculiarity  of  Christianity.  Many 
a  man  will  admit  cheerfully  the  doctrine  that  there  is  a 
God  ;  will  admit  in  general  the  duties  of  morality,  while 
he  will  be  an  open  opposer  of  the  doctrines  of  human  de- 
pravity, of  the  atonement,  of  divine  Sovereignty,  of  elec- 
tion, and  of  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  (3.)  Where 
a  man  will  not  examine  these  doctrines  to  satisfy  his  own 
mind  whether  they  are  true  or  false,  he  shows  that  he  is 
the  secret  enemy  of  the  cross.  For  one  of  the  elements 
of  the  Christian  faith  is  a  willingness  to  know  what  is 
true  ;  and  where  a  man  has  strong  reasons  to  beUeve  that 
if  he  were  to  examine  them  he  would  be  convinced  that 
they  are  true,  and  yet  will  not  examine  them,  it  shows 
that  he  is  secretly  opposed  to  them.  (4.)  Where  a  man 
becomes  angry,  and  chafed,  and  vexed  when  those  doc- 
trines are  preached ;  where  he  demands  the  preaching  of 
mere  moral  essays,  and  is  irritated  if  the  doctrines  of  re- 
ligion are  presented  just  as  they  are  in  the  Bible,  it 
shows  that  he  is  the  enemy  of  the  cross.  He  has  not  yet 
learned  the  first  principle  of  religion  which  requires  him 
to  submit  his  understanding  to  God.  (5.)  Where  he  takes 
sides  with  the  men  of  the  world  in  regard  to  these  high 
truths  of  the  Bible,  it  shows  that  he  is  the  enemy  of  the 
cross.  Where  in  the  circle  of  the  gay,  the  vain,  the 
worldly,  and  the  scoffing,  he  is  unwilling  that  it  should  be 
known  that  he  holds  them,  or  joins  with  others  in  opposing 
them,  it  shows  that  his  heart  has  no  true  love  for  those 
doctrines.  For  these  are  the  times  and  the  places  that 
show  whether  he  has  really  any  attachment  to  the  doc- 


ENEMIES  OF  THE   CROSS   OF  CHRIST.  217 

trines  of  the  Bible,  or  whether  he  is  really  ashamed  of 
them.  And  when  we  see  a  man  coinciding  entirely  with 
the  men  of  this  world  in  regard  to  those  truths — feeling  as 
they  feel ;  and  talking  as  they  talk  ;  and  opposing  what 
they  oppose ;  and  doubting  just  what  they  doubt;  we  can 
be  at  no  loss  about  his  real  character. 

(8.)  Finally.  They  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of 
Christ  who  are  opposed  to  all  the  peculiar  duties  of  the 
Christian  religion ;  who  enter  upon  those  duties  with  re- 
luctance ;  who  rejoice  when  they  are  closed  ;  and  who 
show  throughout  that  the  heart  is  not  in  them.  I  shall 
not  pause  to  prove  this,  for  it  is  perfectly  apparent  that 
\\\  the  sight  of  a  holy  God  the  character  is  to  be  deter- 
mined by  the  state  of  the  heart,  and  not  by  the  external 
profession.  In  illustrating  this  head  of  the  discourse,  I 
refer  to  such  cases  as  the  following.  (1.)  Where  the  ob- 
ligations of  piety  are  admitted  in  general,  but  denied  in 
detail.  The  man  admits  Christianity  to  be  true  in  gene- 
ral, but  he  neglects  prayer,  or  he  lives  for  this  world,  or 
he  indulges  in  envy  or  a  desire  of  revenge,  or  he  is  am- 
bitious, or  he  is  unwiiUng  to  deny  himself  and  take  up 
his  cross,  until  point  by  point  the  system  of  Christianity 
is  all  denied  by  him,  and  nothing  is  left  but  the  name. 
There  is  nothing  by  which  he  is  known  in  distinction  from 
others,  and  the  conclusion  is,  that  the  Christian  religion 
exerts  over  liim  no  influence.  (2.)  Where  professors  have 
no  sympathy  with  the  plans  of  true  Christians.  Where, 
while  they  admit  the  truth  of  Christianity  in  general,  they 
have  no  sympathy  \Ai\\  the  active  friends  of  Christ  for  the 
spread  of  the  gospel ;  where  they  are  strangers  to  those 
plans,  and  uninterested  in  their  success ;  where  they  have 
no  rejoicing  at  the  conversion  of  sinners,  and  no  tears  to 
shed  that  millions  are  going  down  to  hell ;  where  nothing 
ever  rouses  them  to  even  a  momentary  effort  for  the  pro- 
motion of  the  cause  for  which  the  Saviour  died;  where 
they  have  no  prayers  to  offer  in  secret,  and  no  word  of 
encouragement  to  speak  to  the  true  friends  of  Christ ;  and 
where  their  bosoms  would  experience  no  heart-felt  joy  in 
hearing  that  continent  after  continent,  and  island  after 
island  should  be  converted  to  God.  Are  there  not  men 
in  the  Christian  church  who  are  fully  acquainted  with  the 
state  of  political  parties  in  the  city,  state,  or  nation,  and 

19 


218  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

whose  prompt  co-operation  may  be  confidently  expected 
by  their  party,  but  on  whose  aid  in  promoting  the  salva- 
tion of  men  no  reliance  can  be  placed  ?  Are  there  not 
men  fully  acquainted  with  all  that  will  go  to  promote 
commerce,  and  wealth,  and  national  prosperity,  whose 
presence  and  counsel  we  should  seek  in  vain  in  any  direct 
effort  to  promote  a  revival  of  pure  religion  ?  Are  there 
not  men  whose  bosoms  are  agitated  by  any  fluctuations 
in  the  money  market,  or  by  a  prospect  of  defeat  in  a  po- 
litical campaign,  who  have  no  anxiety  to  express,  and 
no  tears  to  shed  when  the  church  slumbers,  and  when 
the  gospel  falls  powerless  on  the  heavy  ears  of  men? 
And  can  the  character  of  such  men  be  mistaken,  or  the 
real  object  of  their  preference  be  a  matter  of  doubt  ? — 
Again.  Are  there  not  those  who  are  familiar  with  all  the 
movements  of  the  gay  and  fashionable  world,  and  who 
possibly  may  be  the  charm  of  every  circle  that  forgets 
God  and  that  hates  Jesus  Christ,  who  have  yet  to  offer 
the  first  sincere  prayer  for  the  conversion  of  a  soul,  and 
who  leave  the  real  friends  of  the  Redeemer  to  struggle 
alone  amidst  many  embarrassments  and  discouragements? 
And  can  it  be  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  they  have  ever 
been  translated  from  the  kingdom  of  darkness  into  the 
kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son?  (3.)  I  refer  to  instances 
where  all  the  sympathies  are  on  the  side  of  the  enemy  of 
Christ.  Where  the  professed  Christian  readily  falls  in 
with  the  observations  which  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
gaiety  and  of  sin  make  about  revivals  of  religion  ;  about 
the  proper  mode  of  preaching  ;  about  the  faults  of  Chris- 
tians, and  the  efforts  of  Christian  benevolence  ;  where, 
when  an  enemy  of  revivals  is  met,  the  professed  Chris- 
tian is  an  enemy  also  ;  Avhen  an  enemy  of  missions  is 
met,  the  professed  Christian  is  an  enemy  also ;  when 
an  enemy  of  godliness  complains  of  a  certain  style  of 
preaching,  the  professed  Christian  complains  also  ;  when 
an  enemy  of  God  dwells  on  the  disorders  of  religious 
excitements,  and  the  mistakes  and  errors  of  Christians, 
the  professed  Christian  has  the  same  remarks  to  offer, 
and  has  not  one  word  to  express  in  behalf  of  the  in- 
jured and  insulted  cause  of  God.  If,  on  all  these  sub- 
jects, he  thinks  just  as  the  enemy  of  God  thinks,  and  feels 
as  he  feels,  and  talks  as  he  talks,  can  there  be  any  doubt 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF  CHRIST.  219 

about  his  true  character  ?  If  my  conversation  be  just  such 
as  the  enemy  of  my  country  would  desire,  can  there  be 
any  doubt  that  I  am  in  his  interest  ?  And  if,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  reUgion,  I  talk  just  as  the  Devil  would  wish  me 
to  talk  ;  if  I  make  just  such  objections  to  the  movements 
of  Christians  as  he  could  wish  me  to  make  ;  if  I  oppose 
just  those  things  which  he  would  wish  me  to  oppose  ; 
and,  if  my  whole  style  of  action  and  remark  be  such  as 
would  be  gratifying  to  him,  can  there  be  any  doubt  about 
my  real  character  ?  Not  professions  determine  the  cha- 
racter, but  the  language,  the  conduct,  the  life. 

In  closing  this  part  of  the  discussion,  I  may  observe, 
that  the  subject  is  one  of  easy  application.  My  aim  has 
been  to  make  it  so  plain  that  it  should  be  impossible  to 
mistake  my  meaning ;  and  I  presume  that  I  have  not 
been  misunderstood.  The  application  of  the  eight  tests 
of  character  which  I  have  suggested,  can  be  easily  made. 
I  may  repeat  a  remark  which  is  often  made,  that  every 
consideration  of  interest,  and  duty,  and  hope,  and  self- 
respect,  demands  that  we  should  be  honest  on  this  subject 
of  religion,  and  if  we  are  deceived,  let  us  know  it  before 
it  shall  be  too  late  forever.  For  "  who  among  us  can 
dwell  with  devouring  fire  ?  who  can  inhabit  everlasting 
burnings  ?"  "  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend  ;'^  and 
I  can  never  do  any  man  more  essential  service,  if  he  is 
deceived,  than  to  show  him  his  danger,  and  point  him  to 
the  cross  of  Christ,  that  he  may  obtain  true  peace  and 
salvation. 

If  it  should  be  said,  as  possibly  it  may  be,  that  there 
is  too  much  of  severity  in  the  remarks  which  I  have  thus 
made,  this  is  my  answer.  I  desire  not  to  give  needless 
pain  ;  nor  shall  I.  Pain  now,  may  save  an  eternity  of 
wo  hereafter.  My  fears  on  that  subject  are  not  that  too 
much  anxiety  will  be  excited,  but  that  there  will  be  too 
little,  or  that  there  will  be  none.  I  answer  further,  that 
these  tests  of  character  are  not  severe.  In  thousands, 
nay  in  millions  of  cases,  they  have  been  applied,  and  true 
religion  in  the  heart  has  endured  the  trial.  Thousands 
of  martyrs  have  put  these  principles  to  the  test,  and  they 
have  borne  it.  In  view  of  the  rack  and  the  stake  ;  in 
view  of  conflicts  with  wild  beasts  in  the  amphitheatre, 
and  of  a  lingering  death  by  torture,  the  question  as  to  the 


220  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

sincerity  of  piety  has  been  tried,  and  piety  has  sustained 
the  trial.  The  question  has  come  up  there — oh,  with  what 
interest — ^  Have  I  been  born  again  ;  have  I  forsaken  my 
sins ;  have  I  the  true  spirit  of  a  Christian  ;  have  I  a 
deeper  interest  in  the  cross  than  in  all  other  things ;  have 
I  been  willing  to  forsake  father,  and  mother,  and  wife, 
and  children  ;  do  I  love  the  great  cause  of  redemption,  and 
is  my  sympathy  with  the  friends  of  God  ?^  and  the  an- 
swer before  persecuting  councils  and  kings  has  been 
prompt  and  steady,  '  I  am  ready  to  bleed  or  to  be  burned 
in  attestation  of  the  truth  of  this  religion' — Too  severe  ! 
No.  Nothing  which  men  can  say;  nothing  which  tyrants 
can  do  ;  nothing  which  Satan  can  devise,  is  too  severe  a 
test  for  the  principles  of  Christian  piety.  These  princi- 
ples will  bear  the  utmost  scrutiny  of  torture  on  earth,  and 
the  deep  searchings  of  the  omniscient  and  most  holy 
eye  of  God  at  the  bar  of  judgment !  And  if  our  pro- 
fessed principles  of  piety  will  iwt  bear  all  these,  we  are 
the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  I  answer,  finally, 
that  a  scrutiny  far  more  severe  than  any  which  can  result 
from  my  exhibition  of  the  truth  is  yet  to  be  applied  to 
us.  Death  is  soon  to  try  us,  to  see  w^hether  our  religion 
will  sustain  us  there.  The  searching  eye  of  the  Almighty 
Judge  is  to  try  us  at  his  bar,  to  see  if  our  religion  will 
sustain  us  there.  And  if  our  piety  will  not  bear  the  scru- 
tiny applied  by  an  erring  and  most  imperfect  mortal,  how 
shall  it  bear  the  trials  of  the  bed  of  death,  and  the  solemn 
investigations  of  the  final  day  ?  Let  us  then  again  take 
words  and  turn  to  the  Lord,  and  say  with  one  mind, 
"Search  us,  0  God,  and  know  our  hearts;  try  us,  and 
know  our  thoughts ;  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way 
in  us,  and  lead  us  in  the  way  everlasting.''  Ps.  cxxxix.  23» 


\ 


\ 


SERMON  XV. 

ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.      NO.  3. 

Phil.  iii.  18.  19.  For  many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and 
now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ, 
whose  end  is  destruction. 

I  PROPOSED,  from  these  words,  to  consider  three  points : 

I.  There  is  reason  to  beUeve  that  many  professing 
Christians  are  the  real  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 

II.  What  are  the  characteristics  of  that  enmity  ;  or  how- 
may  they  be  known  to  be  such  ;  and 

III.  Why  is  the  fact  of  their  being  in  the  church  fitted 
to  excite  grief. 

The  first  two  points  have  been  considered.  The  third 
will  occupy  our  attention  at  this  time  ;  and  the  enquiry 
is,  why  is  the  fact  that  there  are  in  the  church  those  who 
are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ  fitted  to  excite  grief 
and  tears.     I  observe  : 

I.  In  the  first  -place,  that  their  being  in  the  church  is  a 
fact  fitted  to  call  forth  the  feelings  of  tenderness  and  com- 
miseration— not  reproach  and  harshness  of  language — 
for  they  are  cherishing  hopes  that  will  be  disappointed, 
and  are  exposed  to  danger  that  is  unfelt.  The  eflect  on 
the  mind  of  Paul  was  to  produce  tears,  not  harsh  reproof, 
not  angry  denunciation.  He  saw  their  situation  as  one 
that  was  to  be  wept  over ;  and  he  knew  enough  of  human 
nature  to  see  that  all  hope  of  reclaiming  such  persons  was 
in  the  use  of  the  language  of  kindness  and  love.  Kind- 
ness will  do  what  harshness  never  can ;  and  the  love  which 
expresses  itself  in  gushing  tears  will  make  its  way  to  the 
heart,  while  harsh  words  would  only  steel  the  soul,  and 
confirm  it  in  error. 

A  similar  case  occurred  in  the  church  at  Corinth,  and 
Paul  met  it  in  the  same  manner.  Though  required  by 
the  nature  of  the  offence  to  proceed  to  the  extremity  of 
Christian  discipline,  yet  it  was  still  with  tenderness  and 
tears.  ^'  For  out  of  much  affliction  and  anguish  of  heart/' 

19*  221 


222  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

says  he,  "  1  wrote  unto  you  with  many  tears ;  not  that  ye 
should  he  grieved,  but  that  ye  might  know  the  love  which 
I  have  more  abundantly  unto  you/'     2  Cor.  ii.  4. 

The  same  language  of  tenderness  is  evinced  in  the  New 
Testament  throughout,  in  regard  to  this  class  of  persons. 
The  Saviour's  language  was  uniformly  that  of  tenderness, 
and  pity.  Pie  spake  with  a  fearful  solemnity  of  manner 
mdeed ;  with  words  which  show  how  much  his  soul  was 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  subject ;  yet  in  his 
manner  and  words  there  is  not  a  particle  of  harshness. 
We  admit  that  when  the  Lord  Jesus  addressed  the  hypo- 
crite— the  man  who  professed  a  religion  which  he  knew, 
he  did  not  practice,  we  hear  the  language  of  severity. 
"  Ye  serpents,  ye  generation  of  vipers,"  says  he,  "  how 
can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell !"  The  age  in 
which  he  lived  was  eminently  hypocritical ;  the  men 
with  whom  he  had  to  deal  were  many  of  them  false  pro- 
fessors. But  we  are  not  to  infer  that  this  is  to  be  the 
characteristic  of  all  times,  or  that  men  in  the  church  who 
are  strangers  to  religion,  are  to  be  addressed  in  this  man- 
ner, by  us.  The  Son  of  God,  knowing  the  human  heart, 
could  speak  with  unerring  certainty  of  the  character  of 
those  whom  he  addressed.  But  the  ministers  of  religion 
— themselves  imperfect  men,  and  having  no  right  to  as- 
sume pre-eminence  in  moral  worth  above  their  Christian 
brethren,  will  use  the  language  of  entreaty,  not  of  denun- 
ciation ;  will  seek  to  melt  the  heart  by  a  tender  setting 
forth  of  danger,  not  to  overwhelm  it  by  the  denunciations 
of  wrath. 

Perhaps  we  are  in  danger  of  erring  in  regard  to  the 
character  of  those  in  the  church  who  give  no  evidence 
of  piety.  In  churches  that  are  connected  with  the  state ; 
in  lands  where  the  obtainment  of  office  or  any  other 
important  temporal  advantage  may  depend  on  a  pro- 
fession of  religion,  many  will  openly  profess  it  who  are 
influenced  solely  by  a  regard  to  the  worldly  considera- 
tion. But  the  temptation  to  this  in  this  land,  if  it  ever 
exist  at  all,  exists  to  so  inconsiderable  a  degree  as  not 
to  call  for  any  special  animadversion.  The  instances  re- 
main yet  to  occur,  probably,  Avhere  a  profession  of  reli- 
gion has  been  assumed  in  this  country  for  the  sake  of 
office ;  or  where  it  would  contribute  to  the  attainment  of 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  223 

office.  Nor  is  there  reason  to  believe  that  the  profession 
of  religion  is  often,  if  ever  assumed,  because  it  will  clothe 
a  man  with  additional  influence,  or  will  facilitate  the  ac- 
quisition of  wealth.  The  power  which  a  man  can  wield 
in  the  church  in  this  country  is  too  inconsiderable  to 
make  it  a  prize  to  be  purchased  by  known  hypocrisy ;  and 
those  who  are  intent  on  becoming  rich  will  derive  too 
little  advantage  from  a  profession  of  religion  to  make  it 
an  object  to  be  purchased  at  the  expense  of  a  good  con- 
science. I  have  been  a  pastor  now  more  than  sixteen 
years,  and  it  has  been  my  business  to  observe,  as  I  was 
able,  the  lives  of  those  who  profess  Christianity.  And  I 
cannot  recall  an  instance  in  which  I  have  seen  evidence 
that  the  profession  of  religion  was  assumed,  because  it 
would  elevate  a  man  to  office,  or  aid  him  in  becoming 
rich.  I  have  seen  instances  where  it  seemed  to  me,  and 
still  seems,  that  men  were  deterred  from  making  a  pro- 
fession of  religion  because  there  might  be  apprehension 
that  it  would  interfere  with  the  hopes  of  office  ;  or  throw 
around  them  restraints  which  they  would  rather  avoid  in 
the  acquisition  of  wealth.  The  conclusion  which  has 
been  pressed  on  my  mind  has  been,  that  ten  men  are 
deterred  from  making  a  profession  of  religion  from  an 
apprehension  that  it  would  interfere  with  their  worldly 
interests,  for  one  who  professedly  embraces  Christianity 
from  any  hope  of  honor,  or  emolument. 

But  I  have  seen  many,  who,  without  any  violation,  as 
I  trust,  of  that  charity  which  hopeth  all  things  and  is 
kind,  seemed  to  me  to  be  strangers  to  the  transforming 
and  elevating  principles  of  the  religion  which  they  pro- 
fess. In  looking  at  the  evidences  of  piety  as  laid  down 
with  such  simplicity  in  the  New  Testament,  it  has  been 
so  forcibly  impressed  on  the  mind  that  all  those  evidences 
were  wanting,  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  was  an  utter  mistake  in  their  cher- 
ished hopes,  and  in  the  profession  which  they  made. 
To  this  conclusion,  the  mind  and  heart  of  a  pastor  will 
sloAvly  and  reluctantly  come.  But  having  come  to  this 
conclusion,  he  is  guilty  of  unfaithfulness  to  the  master 
whom  he  serves,  and  to  the  souls  which  he  would  save, 
if  he  fails  to  express  his  apprehensions,  or   to  tell   his 


224  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

hearers  "often,"  and  "even  weeping"  that  "many  walk 
who  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  whose  end  is 

DESTRUCTION." 

There  is  nothing  more  fitted  to  excite  commiseration 
than  this.  If  we  see  a  son  cherishing  from  year  to  year 
a  delusive  expectation  that  he  will  be  heir  to  a  great 
estate  ;  and  in  the  mean  time,  on  the  ground  of  this, 
making  no  preparation  for  the  life  which  he  must  lead 
when  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  our  feelings  to- 
wards him  will  be  those  only  of  pity,  and  of  grief.  If 
we  see  a  man  lying  on  a  sick  bed  with  every  mark  of 
approaching  death,  yet  clinging  to  life ;  if  we  see  the 
body  waste  away,  and  the  hectic  on  the  cheek,  and  hear 
the  admonitory  voice  of  the  physician,  and  yet  see  the 
emaciated  sufferer  indulging  in  day-dreams  of  returning 
health,  we  have  but  one  feeling  in  relation  to  the  deluded 
man — not  of  severity  but  of  tenderness ;  not  prompting 
to  rebuke,  but  exciting  to  tears.  And  so  when  we  see  an 
immortal  soul  cherishing  the  delusive  hope  of  the  "adop- 
tion" into  the  family  of  God,  and  of  "  the  inheritance  of 
the  saints  in  light,"  can  there  be  other  than  the  language 
of  pity  ?  When  we  hear  a  man  speak  of  treading  the 
green  fields  of  heaven,  of  slaking  his  thirst  in  the  river 
of  hfe ;  of  reposing  beneath  the  trees  ever  green  in  the 
Paradise  above ;  of  wearing  the  diadem,  and  of  being 
clothed  in  the  flowing  robes  of  heaven ;  and  then  reflect 
that  all  this  is  the  language  of  a  lost,  and  still  unransomed 
soul,  is  there  a  heart  so  hard  as  to  use  the  language  of  se- 
verity, and  are  there  eyes  so  unused  to  pity  as  to  withhold 
tlieir  tears  ? 

If  it  should  be  said  that  it  is  not  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that,  when  the  delusion  is  not  to  be  traced  to 
voluntary  hypocrisy,  a  God  of  mercy  will  recompense 
the  error  with  everlasting  torments,  I  ask  how  it  is  in 
other  matters  ?  I  look  at  the  great  principles  of  the  divine 
administration  as  they  are  developed  in  the  world.  I  ask 
whether  the  fact  that  men  are  deceived,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  events,  will  make  them  safe  from  sufl*ering, 
or  turn  aside  the  regular  penalty  of  law?  I  see  the 
man  who  is  cherishing  the  delusive  hope  that  his  world- 
ly aflairs  are  prosperous,  and  who  gives  no  heed  to 
the  admonitions  of  his  friends.     He  is  not  benefited  by 


ENEMIES  OP  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  225 

the  cherished  dehision,  but  ruin  and  bankruptcy  come 
upon  him  with  a  step  steady  as  time.  I  see  a  young  man 
confident  in  the  vigor  of  his  constitution  ;  unwilling  to 
beUeve  that  he  endangers  his  heahh  by  a  course  of  dis- 
sipation ;  deceived  about  the  strength  of  his  own  princi- 
ples, and  spurning  the  sober  counsel  of  wisdom  and  of 
age.  Nor  is  he  benefited  by  his  delusion,  but  he  sinks 
hke  others  to  the  woes  and  curses  of  the  drunkard's  grave. 
I  see  the  pale,  emaciated  man  clinging  to  life ;  cherishing 
the  delusive  hope  that  his  disease  will  yet  depart  from 
him ;  and  anticipating  future  days  of  health,  and  plea- 
sure. Yet  the  disease  is  not  stayed  by  his  delusion.  It 
approaches  steadily  the  seat  of  life.  Unawed,  un rebuked, 
unarrested  by  his  delusions,  the  destroyer  is  levelling  the 
poisoned  shaft,  and  the  man  finds  the  cold  damps  of  death 
standing  upon  his  brow  even  while  he  cherishes  tlie  hope 
of  living  long.  So  it  is  every  where.  The  laws  of  na- 
ture and  of  God,  operate  with  steady  and  unchanging 
power.  They  hasten  to  their  end.  When  violated  in 
regard  to  health,  or  morals,  or  property,  or  salvation,  they 
have  a  penalty  which  is  not  met  by  self-deception  ;  and 
which  will  not  be  driven  back  by  the  sunshine  and  calm 
of  fancied  security.  Man  must  pay  the  forfeit;  and 
neither  in  regard  to  his  worldly  affairs  or  to  religion,  will 
self  deception  turn  aside  the  penalty,  or  interpose  to  shield 
the  body  or  the  soul. 

II.  The  existence  of  such  persons  in  the  church  is  a 
subject  of  regret  and  of  tears,  from  their  influence.  This 
I  shall  illustrate  in  a  few  particulars.     It  is, 

(1.)  The  loss  of  so  much  positive  strength  to  the  cause 
of  the  Redeemer.  For  it  cannot  be  denied  that  those  of 
whom  I  am  speaking  often  embody  not  a  little  of  the 
wealth,  the  talent,  and  the  actual  influence  of  the  church. 
Nor  can  it  be  denied  that,  when  this  is  the  case,  this  very 
fact  gives  them  a  melancholy  conspicuity,  and  promi- 
nence. If  those  who  sustain  this  character  possess  an 
influence  that  spreads  far  through  the  political  or  com- 
mercial world ;  if  they  have  power  to  excite  to  energy 
mighty  masses  of  mind,  and  that  talent  is  a  dead  weight 
on  the  church,  the  fact  cannot  escape  the  public  observa- 
tion, and  be  felt  in  all  the  interests  of  the  church  of  Christ. 
If  they  whose  power  is  felt  most  deeply  in  the  commercial 


226  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

or  political  world,  are  entirely  inactive  in  the  church  ;  if 
while  they  are  known  every  where  else,  they  are  unknown 
here  except  in  the  bare  record  of  their  names  ;  if  nothing 
will  rouse  them  to  even  a  temporary  interest  in  the  spirit- 
ual affairs  of  the  church,  it  is  just  so  much  abstraction  of 
that  which  professedly  belongs  to  Christ ;  and  there  can  be 
no  wonder  if  it  diffuse  a  chill  and  paralysis  over  all  the 
interests  of  religion.  It  is  melancholy  to  reflect  on  what 
might  be  done  in  the  church  of  Christ  if  all  its  members 
had  the  burning  zeal  of  Paul,  or  the  ever-glowing  and 
pure  love  of  John ;  and  then  to  remember  that  the  designs 
of  Christian  enterprise — the  conversion  of  the  soul — the 
cause  of  revivals — the  salvation  of  the  world — lack  the 
counsel,  and  the  prayers,  and  the  friendly  co-operation  of 
those  who  are  best  qualified,  under  God,  to  carry  them 
forward.  Paul  spake  of  such  with  tears ;  nor  is  it  easy  to 
withhold  such  expressions  of  grief  when  a  man  reposes 
in  the  bosom  of  a  church,  bearing  simply  the  name  of 
Christian ;  a  stranger  to  its  feelings,  to  its  plans,  and  to 
its  spiritual  peace  ;  a  man  whose  power  is  felt  in  the 
political  and  commercial  world  always  ;  in  the  religious 

world NEVER. 

(2.)  Their  influence  in  the  church  is  a  subject  of  grief, 
because  it  tends  to  discourage  the  true  friends  of  God. 
There  are  not  a  few  in  all  Christian  churches,  who  are 
sincere  and  humble  Christians.  They  love  the  Saviour 
who  died  for  them.  They  have  not  merely  in  form,  but 
in  sincerity,  devoted  themselves  to  his  service.  Their 
hearts  pant  for  the  spread  of  the  gospel ;  and  their  most 
fervent  desires  are  for  the  salvation  of  sinners,  for  the 
peace  and  happiness  and  purity  of  the  church,  and  for 
the  conversion  of  the  world.  Their  purest  joys  are  con- 
nected with  the  reign  of  Immanuel,  and  they  wish  to  live 
only  that  by  their  influence  and  prayers,  they  may  do 
something  for  the  furtherance  of  his  gospel  on  the  earth. 
Their  language  is,  in  sincerity, 


I  love  thy  kingdom,  Ijord, 

The  house  of  thine  abode 
The  church  our  blessed  Redeemer  saved 

With  his  own  precious  blood. 


ENEMIES  OF  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  227 

If  e'er  to  bless  thy  sons 

My  voice  or  hands  deny, 
These  hands  let  useful  skill  forsake, 

This  voice  in  silence  die. 

For  her  my  tears  shall  fall, 

For  her  ray  prayers  ascend, 
To  her  my  toils  and  cares  be  given, 

Till  cares  and  toils  shall  end. 

Now  it  is  not  needful  to  dwell  on  the  discouragement 
which  ensues  when  the  irresistible  conviction  comes  over 
the  mind,  that  a  professed  brother  or  sister  in  the  church 
has  no  interest  in  these  things ; — that  they  have  no  pray- 
ers to  offer  for  the  conversion  of  sinners  ;  no  tears  to  shed, 
like  the  Saviour,  over  the  dangers  of  lost  men ;  no  cheer- 
ing counsel  for  those  who  are  endeavoring  to  do  good  ;  no 
aid  to  offer  to  the  pastor  in  his  great  ofhce,  and  no  re- 
joicing when  souls  are  converted  to  Christ.  It  is  as  if,  in 
the  struggle  for  liberty,  a  few  should  brave  every  danger, 
encamp  on  the  cold  field,  and  expose  themselves  to  death, 
while  professed  friends  should  sit  and  look  from  their 
palace  windows  on  the  struggle  without  sympathy,  and 
without  a  tear  when  brave  men  bleed. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  cause  of  grief.  It  is  not  from 
mere  discouragement  because  they  are  left  to  toil  alone. 
For  the  Master  has  said,  "  he  that  is  not  with  me,  is  against 
me ;  and  he  that  gathereth  not  with  me  scattereth  abroad.'^ 
In  this  strife  between  sin  and  holiness,  heaven  and  hell, 
there  is  no  neutrality.  And  it  adds  to  the  sadness  of  the 
scene,  when  they  who  are  the  professed  friends  of  Christ 
not  only  stand  aloof,  but  seek  to  build  up  that  which  true 
Christians  labor  to  destroy,  and  to  destroy  that  which  God 
is  endeavoring  to  build  up.  When  the  real  friends  of 
Christ  are  endeavoring  to  promote  revivals  of  religion 
and  the  conversion  of  the  world,  and  his  professed  friends 
are  always  found  to  countenance  the  views  of  the  enemies 
of  Christ,  and  to  coincide  with  the  men  of  the  world,  it 
adds  to  the  grief  of  the  friends  of  the  Saviour  by  all  the 
sorrow  that  attends  violated  friendship,  and  forgotten 
plighted  love.  "  I  was  wounded  in  the  house  of  my 
friends,  and  he  that  hath  eaten  bread  with  me  hath  lifted 
up  his  hand  against  me,"  was  the  tender  language  of  the 
much  injured  David.     "  It  was  not  an  enemy  that  did  it, 


228  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

then  I  could  have  born  it.  But  it  was  thou,  a  man  mine 
equal,  my  guide  and  mine  acquaintance  ;  we  took  sweet 
counsel  together  and  walked  to  the  house  of  God  in 
company."  Ps.  Iv.  12,  13.  And  when  too  the  professed 
friends  of  Christ  are  found  the  patrons  of  those  things 
which  his  real  friends  are  endeavoring  to  remove  from 
the  world  as  hurtful  to  health,  and  morals,  and  the  salva- 
tion of  the  soul,  can  it  be  otherwise  than  a  matter  of 
grief.?  Can  a  house  that  is  divided  against  itself  stand. f* 
And  does  not  a  kingdom  that  is  divided  against  itself  fall? 
In  one  portion  of  the  church  there  shall  be  prayer,  and 
toil,  and  tears  to  discountenance  and  destroy  the  works  of 
the  devil  ;  and  if  in  another  the  professed  friends  of  Christ 
are  doing  just  v/hat  the  enemy  of  souls,  of  revivals,  of 
humble  piety,  and  of  the  world's  redemption  would  wish 
them  to  do,  how  can  it  be  otherwise  than  a  subject  of 
grief  and  of  tears  ? 

(3.)  The  deportment  of  such  professors  of  religion  gives 
occasion  for  the  reproach  and  opposition  of  a  wicked 
world — and  it  is,  therefore,  a  cause  of  grief  and  tears. 
For  the  great  mass  of  men  ever  have  derived,  and  ever 
will  derive  their  views  of  the  Christian  religion  not  from 
the  Bible,  but  from  the  lives  of  its  professors.  Rarely 
will  they  take  up  th.e  Bible  to  learn  the  nature  of  Chris- 
tianity from  the  pure  life,  or  holy  precepts  of  its  founder; 
and  rarely  will  they  be  convinced  that  that  religion  which 
does  not  in  fact  produce  renovation  of  the  heart,  and 
holiness  of  life,  can  be  from  heaven — nor  should  they  be. 
And  though  we  can  point  them  to  many  instances  of  con- 
sistent piety;  though  we  can  refer  them  to  multitudes  of 
cases  where  Christianity  has  in  fact  reformed  the  profane, 
the  sensual,  and  the  proud,  yet  the  influence  of  one  in- 
consistent professor  will  more  than  neutralize  the  argu- 
ment dravv^i  from  the  consistent  walk  of  ten  who  are 
ornaments  to  their  high  calling.  The  thoughless,  ungodly 
world  has  an  intey^est  in  keeping  the  lives  of  the  ten  hum- 
ble and  holy  Christians  out  of  view,  and  in  fixing  the 
attention  on  the  one  professor  that  is  a  disgrace  to  the 
Christian  name. 

This  reproach  is  unanswerable.  The  fact  alleged  is  un- 
deniable ;  and  the  attention  is  easily  fixed  on  some  profes- 
sor of  religion  with  whom  the  objector  has  had  business  of 


ENEMIES  OF  THE   CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  229 

a  worldly  nature,  where  he  has  found  him  as  close  as  other 
men;  wiiere  he  has  seen  a  spirit  as  grasping;  where  he 
has  witnessed  some  departure  from  moral  honesty;  where 
a  promise  has  not  been  kept ;  or  where  there  has  been  a 
case  of  overreaching,  or  of  fraud.  And  where  such  a  case 
can  be  referred  to,  it  is  all  that  the  man  of  the  world 
asks  ;  and  the  force  of  argument  with  him  is  at  an  end. 
In  vain  may  we  press  upon  his  attention  the  argument 
for  Christianity  from  miracles  and  prophecy ;  in  vain 
refer  to  the  pure  life  and  precepts  of  its  founder ;  in  vain 
appeal  to  its  obvious  and  indisputable  effects  in  reforming 
the  world  ;  in  vain  urge  on  the  man  that  he  should  judge  of 
reUgion  by  its  precepts  and  recorded  principles  in  the  Bible, 
and  that  it  is  unfair  to  hold  the  whole  system  answerable 
for  the  faults  of  its  professed  friends,  in  vain  is  all  this 
urged — for  the  inconsistent  professor  occupies  the  whole 
field  of  vision  before  the  objector.  It  is  all  that  he  sees, 
or  will  see,  or  can  be  made  to  see  ;  and  the  reasoning 
falls  on  heavy  ears,  and  on  a  heart  in  respect  to  our  ar- 
guments just  like  adamant.  All  the  objections  which  / 
ever  hear  against  religion  are  drawn  from  the  inconsistent 
lives  of  its  friends.  All  the  obstacles  which  are  thrown 
in  viy  path  in  endeavoring  to  urge  the  gospel  personally 
on  the  immediate  attention  of  sinners  are  drawn  from 
this  quarter. 

(4.)  Their  influence  is  a  matter  of  grief  because  it  is 
the  occasion  of  the  loss  of  the  souls  of  men.  They  who 
are  in  the  church  without  any  religion  are  a  stumbling- 
block  over  which  others  fall  into  perdition  ;  and  to  the 
guilt  of  the  ruin  of  their  own  souls,  is  to  be  added  that 
of  being  the  means  of  the  everlasting  ruin  of  others. 
This  follows  inevitably.  They  do  not  adorn  the  religion 
which  they  profess  to  love  by  their  lives ;  they  convey 
erroneous  ideas  of  it  every  step  which  they  take ;  they 
do  not  exert  a  Christian  influence  over  their  children, 
and  friends,  and  fellow-sinners  ;  their  example  and  con- 
versation is  just  that  which  the  world  desires  to  make  it 
quiet  in  sin;  they  are  pursuing  just  the  course  which 
Satan  desires  them  to  pursue  in  order  that  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  gaiety  and  folly  should  not  be  alarmed ;  and 
their  whole  influence  is  adapted  to  make  the  world 
thoughtless,  and  unconcerned,  and  prayeriess.     An  un- 

20 


230  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

godly  parent  thus  adds  to  his  own  destruction  that  of  Iiis 
children  ;  and  unless  special  mercy  interposes,  a  whole 
farnily  in  hell  shall  be  the  sad  argument  to  illustrate  the 
effects  of  being  deceived  in  the  church.  We  can  conceive  of 
no  more  affecting  image  of  the  inexpressible  wretchedness 
of  the  world  of  despair,  than  when  we  think  of  a  child 
thus  reproaching  a  father  or  a  mother  as  the  cause  of  his 
ruin.  *  You  were  a  professor  of  religion.  Your  example 
and  views  of  life  ;  your  conducting  me  to  scenes  of  fash- 
ion and  gaiety,  when  the  mind  should  have  been  im- 
pressed with  the  thoughts  of  God ;  your  neglecting  to 
acquaint  me  with  the  Saviour  of  the  soul,  is  the  cause 
why  I  weep  amidst  these  inextinguishable  fires.  But  for 
that  inconsistent,  and  unholy  life  of  her  that  bare  me,  I 
should  now  have  been  among  the  blessed,  and  heaven 
would  have  been  my  eternal  home.  But  0  these  hor- 
rors !  These  deep,  eternal  burnings  !  A  father  has  led 
me  there  ;  a  mother  has  guided  my  footsteps  down  to 
death !' 

III.  The  existence  of  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ 
in  the  church  is  fitted  to  excite  regret  and  tears  from  the 
slender  probability  that  they  will  ever  be  converted  and 
saved.  Paul's  grief  arose  mainly  from  the  fact  which  he 
expresses,  that  their  "end  was  destruction."  It  is  evi- 
dent that  he  did  not  anticipate  their  conversion.  Judas 
Iscariot  was  three  years  with  the  Saviour,  under  his  direct 
ministry,  and  was  not  converted.  In  the  account  which 
our  Saviour  gives  in  the  parable  of  the  tares,  it  is  evident 
that  he  did  not  suppose  that  they  who  were  deceived  in 
the  church  would  ever  be  converted.  "  Let  both  grow 
together  until  the  harvest,"  said  he  ;  not,  *  let  the  tares 
remain  amidst  the  wheat  with  the  hope  of  a  change,'  but 
"let  both  grow  together  until  the  harvest,  and  in  the 
time  of  the  harvest  I  will  say  to  the  reapers,  Gather  ye 
together  first  the  tares,  and  bind  them  in  bundles  to  burn 
them."  Matth.  xiii.  30.  Joshua  had  no  hope  that  Achan 
would  be  converted,  and  he  was  accordingly  destroyed. 
God  had  no  expectation  that  Nadab  and  Abihu  would  be 
converted,  and  the  earth  opened  and  swallowed  them  up. 
Peter  had  no  hope  that  Ananias  and  Sapphira  would  be 
converted  if  they  remained  in  the  church,  and  the  judg- 
ment of  heaven  was  manifested  in  their  death.     And  the 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  231 

current  representations  of  the  Bible  may  be  appealed  to 
as  a  proof  that  the  conversion  of  a  man  in  the  church  is 
an  event  scarcely  contemplated,  and  for  which  no  pro- 
vision has  been  made. 

An  appeal  to  fact  would  sustain  this  conclusion.  Amidst 
the  evidence  which  we  cannot  resist  that  there  are  many 
such  in  the  church,  how  rare  a  thing  is  it  that  even  one 
abandons  his  falsely-cherished  hope,  and  becomes  a  sin- 
cere believer.  The  die  seems  to  be  cast,  and  the  destiny 
scaled.  The  profane,  the  profligate,  the  dissolute,  the 
moral,  the  aged,  and  the  young,  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
are  converted  by  hundreds  around  them,  but  no  Sun  of 
righteousness  visits  the  Greenland  of  their  souls,  or  re- 
moves the  deep  darkness  which  blinds  their  minds.  The 
gospel  is  borne  to  other  lands,  and  the  benighted  pagan 
hails  its  coming,  but  it  has  no  consolations  for  the  de- 
ceived professor,  and  its  pleadings  and  its  thunders  die 
away  alike  unheeded  on  the  ear. 

This  melancholy  fact  may  be  accounted  for  in  a  word. 
The  condition  of  a  deceived  professor  is  unfavorable  to 
conversion.  He  dreams  of  a  heaven  to  be  obtained  with 
an  unhumbled  heart,  without  self-denial,  and  without 
bearing  the  cross,  and  he  is  unwilling  that  the  pleasing 
dream  should  be  disturbed.  His  fancied  security  shields 
him  from  all  the  appeals  which  are  made  to  men.  The 
exhortations  which  are  addressed  to  sinners  to  repent  and 
to  believe  the  gospel  he  does  not  apply  to  himself,  for  he 
does  not  professedly  belong  to  that  class.  The  arguments 
which  are  urged  on  Christians  to  lead  a  holy  life ;  the 
motives  which  are  urged  from  their  inextinguishable  love 
to  the  Saviour,  he  does  not  regard,  for  he  has  none  of  the 
Christian's  feelings,  and  none  of  his  real  desire  to  glorify 
God  the  Redeemer.  Belonging  not  to  the  world  profess- 
edly, and  not  to  Christians  really,  the  appeals  of  divine 
mercy  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul  almost  never  reach 
the  heart,  alarm  the  conscience,  or  arouse  to  hope  or  fear. 
Yet  it  is  fancied  security,  not  real.  It  is  that  kind  of  se- 
curity which  a  man  will  take,  who,  when  ^tna  or  Vesu- 
vius should  cast  forth  lurid  flames,  and  heave  with  an 
approaching  eruption,  instead  of  fleeing  to  the  distant 
plain,  should  be  content  with  reposing  beneath  a  tree  at 


232  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

its  base,  and  hiding  his  eyes,  and  stopping  his  ears,  should 
regard  himself  as  secure. 

Here  I  close  the  consideration  of  this  text.  In  conclu- 
sion I  shall  make  two  remarks. 

(1.)  The  first  is,  that  there  is  an  obvious  propriety 
for  honest  self-examination.  The  necessity  of  this  is 
urged  upon  us  by  all  the  worth  of  the  undying  soul ; 
by  all  the  value  of  the  blood  of  Christ ;  by  all  the  ap])re- 
hensions  of  a  dreadful  hell.  On  this  of  all  subjects  we 
should  be  most  honest  with  ourselves ;  and  yet  on  this  of 
all  subjects  we  are  prone  to  take  up  with  sHghtest  evi- 
dences. The  solicitude  of  the  merchant  to  save  his  afiairs 
from  bankruptcy,  is  untiring ;  the  advocate  toils  to  gain 
his  cause,  and  the  physician  to  save  his  patient ;  the 
farmer  has  no  rest  till  the  title  to  his  land  is  without  a 
flaw.  Yet  that  merchant,  perhaps,  will  feel  no  solicitude 
that  his  eternal  interests  may  not  be  bankrupt ;  nor  that 
professional  man  feel  any  concern  that  he  is  in  danger  of 
losing  his  soul ;  nor  the  farmer  that  his  title  to  heaven  is 
insecure.  On  the  very  point  where  we  should  suppose 
there  would  be  most  interest  felt,  there  is  often  the  least ; 
and  the  last  thing  to  which  immortal  man,  in  the  church 
or  out  of  it,  can  be  roused,  is  the  worth  of  his  own  soul. 

Were  it  thus  in  other  cases,  we  should  be  impressed 
with  the  folly.  Let  a  man  be  seized  with  disease,  though 
not  immediately  alarming,  and  let  it  be  suffered  to  run 
on  without  care  or  anxiety  until  death  shall  lay  its  cold 
hand  on  him,  and  we  do  not  doubt  its  folly.  Yet  how 
many  are  under  the  influence  of  the  incurable  disease 
of  sin,  who  allow  themselves  to  be  deceived ;  who  listen 
to  no  language  of  entreaty  to  examine ;  and  who  will 
soon  find  that  their  hopes  of  heaven  have  been  founded 
on  the  sand  !  Once  more,  I  may  be  permitted,  not  in 
form,  but  in  the  soberness  of  sincerity  and  of  love,  to 
entreat  you  to  be  willing  to  know  the  Avorst  of  the  case. 
If  deceived,  be  willing  to  know  it,  and  to  seek  mercy 
before  it  shall  be  too  late.  If  we  are  Christians  let  us 
know  it,  and  let  our  lives  testify  accordingly. 

(2.)  Let  me  address  one  word  to  those  who  are  not 
professors  of  religion.  I  beseech  you  not  to  make  the 
follies,  and  sins,  and  self-delusions  of  others  the  means  of 
your  own  destruction.     You,  as  well  as  professed  Chris- 


ENEMIES    OF    THE    CROSS    OF    CHRIST.  233 

tians,  whether  they  are  deceived  or  not,  are  advancing  to 
the  same  burial-place  of  the  dead,  and  to  the  same  judg- 
ment-seat.    You  will  stand  before  the  same  God,  and 
give  up  an  account,  not  for  them,  but  for  yourselves. 
"  Every  man  shall  give  account  of  himself  to  God."     It 
will  constitute  no  safeguard  to  you  that  they  are  deceived. 
It  will  diminish  none  of  the  terrors  of  death,  that  your 
wife  or  child  was  deceived,  and  must  perish  forever.     It 
will  be  no  ground  of  acquittal  to  you,  if  they  are  lost.    I 
will  add,  it  will  furnish  no  consolation  to  you  in  hell — 
no,  not  the  drop  of  water  to  cool  the  parched  tongue — 
should  they  go  down  to  be  your  everlasting  companions. 
To  your  own  master  you  stand  or  fall.     They  may  be 
deluded  ;  you  certainly  are.    They,  in  cherishing  a  hope 
of  life  to  which  the}^  have  no  claim  ;  you,  in  supposing 
that  no  preparation  is  necessary,  and  that  there  is  no 
heaven  or  hell  beyond  the  grave.     You,  deluded  amidst 
the  gaieties,  and  fascinations,  and  the  jostling  plans,  and 
the  vain  expectations  of  happiness  hi  this  world ;  they 
in  the  church  in  regard  to  the  hope  of  heaven.  But  what 
then  ?    Are  you  safe }     Hear  me.     When  all  the  delu- 
sions of  life  shall  have  vanished  ;  when  we  shall  be  sum- 
moned to  attend  to  the  sober  reality  of  dying,  and  of 
going  on  the  journey  up  to  God,  and  giving  in  the  solemn 
account  at  his  bar,  and  of  entering  a  world  where  there 
is  no  delusion,  it  will  remove  none  of  the  sad  realities 
of  those  scenes  to  remember  that  others  were  deluded  as 
well  as  you,  and  that  they,  as  you  anticipated,  sunk  down 
to  the  world  where  "are  hypocrites  and  unbelievers." 
But  let  me  ask  you,  my  friend,  a  question.  What  if  their 
hopes  should  be  well-founded  ?    What  if  it  shall  appear 
that  ?/ow  alone  are  deluded  and  deceived?  What  if  they 
rise  to  heaven,  saved  by  the  hope  which  they  now  che- 
rish ?    What  if,  notwithstanding  all  the  difficulties  of  the 
way,  and  the  delusions  around  them,  and  their  many 
doubts  and  fears,  they  are  able  to  bear  the  scrutiny  of 
the  All-seeing  Eye  in  the  great  day  ?   Solve  me  this  ques- 
tion, I  beseech  you — "  If  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved, 
where  shall  the  ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear  V 

20^ 


SERMON  XVI. 

THE    RULE    OF    CHRISTIANITY,    IN    REGARD    TO    CON- 
FORMITY   TO    THE    WORLD. 

Rom.  xii.  2.     And  be  not  conformed  to  this  world. 

I  DO  not  know  a  more  difficult  passage  in   the  New 
Testament  than  this ;  and  I  enter  upon  the  discussion  of 
it  with  very  httle  hope  of  being  able  to  furnish  a  satis- 
factory solution  of  the   many  inquiries   which   may  be 
made  respecting  its  meaning,  and  its  application.     What 
is  conformity  to  the  world — is  tlie  question  which  imme- 
diately presents  itself  on  reading  the  text.     It  is  easy  to 
see  that  a  command  so  plain  as  this  appears  to  be,  may 
give  occasion  to    a   great   variety  of  opinions.     Every 
Christian  may  have  an  "  interpretation,^'  and  "  a  doc- 
trine" of  his  own.     Every  Christian  denomination  may 
have  its  own  rules.    One  will  insist  on  confining  it  to  the 
feelings  and  general  spirit  of  the  man  ;  another  will  m.ain- 
tain   that  it  refers  only  to  the  vices  and  crimes  of  the 
world  ;  a  third  will  extend  it  to  its  gaieties  ;  a  fourth  will 
affirm  that  it  extends  to  every  article  of  apparel ;  and  a 
fifth  to  the  ordinary  intercourse  and  courtesies  of  life. 
Many  will   demand   that   the  rich    shall   abandon  their 
houses,  their  furniture,  and   their   equipage,  and  come 
down  in  all  these  things  to  the  level  of  their  neighbours ; 
and  many  of  the  rich  may  deem  their  neighbours  unduly 
self-indulgent  in  their  manner  of  life.     All  of  us  can  see 
some  things  in  which  we  judge  others  to  be  too  much 
conformed   to   the    world ;  and  most  of  us  have  many 
perplexing  questions  pertaining  to  our  own  duty  as  Chris- 
tians, and  to  the  demands  of  this  and  other  similar  texts 
of  the  Bible.    Most  of  us  probably  are  satisfied  that  there 
has  been,  and  is,  in  the  church,  too  much  conformity  to 
the  world.    Our  fellow  men  who  are  not  Christians,  often 
reproach  us  on  this  subject,  and  demand  that  we  should 
be  less  conformed  to  the  follies  and  vanities  in  which  thei/ 

234 


CONFORMITY    TO    THE    WOULD.  235 

freely  indulge.  Poor  compliment  they  pay  to  their  own 
conduct  and  discretion ;  and  a  sad  employment  to  blame 
others  for  that  which  they  feel  at  liberty  to  practise. 

Amidst  these  conflicting  opinions,  I  have  little  hope  of 
traversing  a  perplexed  and  difficult  inquiry  with  entire 
clearness  and  satisfaction.  If  I  can  excite  thought  on 
the  subject  among  conscientious  men,  one  part  of  my 
object  will  be  gained.  If  I  can  establish  some  principles 
by  which  we  are  to  interpret  the  text,  I  shall  do  all  that 
I  hope  to  be  able  to  effect.  It  would  be  easy  to  declaim 
on  this  subject ;  and  it  is  always  easy  to  utter  unmeaning 
and  loose  denunciations  against  Christians  for  conformity 
to  the  world.  There  may  be  occasion  for  all  the  severity 
of  reproof  ever  uttered ;  but  after  all,  the  inquiry  arises, 
what  is  the  duty  of  Christians,  and  by  what  principles 
shall  they  judge  of  the  text  ? 

The  following  inquiries  I  shall  attempt  to  answer : 

I.  To  what  does  the  rule  apply  ? 

II.  What  in  the  text  is  it  designed  to  reach  and  effect? 

III.  What  are  the  proper  principles  of  its  application? 
I.  To  what  does  the  rule  apply?     Here,  also,  many 

questions  might  be  asked.  Was  it  intended  to  be  limited 
to  the  time  of  Paul,  and  to  that  peculiar  age  of  the  world  ? 
Christians,  especially  at  Rome,  were  then  placed  amidst 
the  luxuries  and  gaieties  of  a  refined,  a  vicious,  and  an 
idolatrous  age.  To  conform  to  that  age,  would  be  to  coin- 
cide with  the  splendor,  pride,  ambition,  fashion,  and  even 
corrupt  principles  of  a  generation  peculiarly  wicked  and 
vain.  Christians  w^ere  expected  to  be  separated,  and  to 
constitute  a  distinct  community.  The  difference  between 
them  and  others  was  to  be  marked,  open,  decided,  and 
there  could  have  been  little  difficulty  in  applying  the  rule. 
But  the  aspect  of  the  world  has,  in  some  respects, 
changed.  Idolatry  is  banished.  Its  altars  are  overthrown. 
Christianity  has  diffused  intelligence,  refinement,  kind- 
ness, and  a  thousand  kindred  virtues  through  the  commu- 
nity. It  has  elevated  society  much  nearer  to  its  own 
standards ;  and  it  is  asked  whether  the  rule  is  still  to  be 
applicable  ?  If  so,  in  what  respects,  and  to  what  extent  ? 
Yet  on  the  question  of  the  applicability,  or  jurisdiction  of 
the  rule,  there  can  be  no  doubt.    It  is  unrepealed.    There 


236  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

was  no  intimation  that  it  was  to  be  confined  to  that  age, 
or  to  any  peculiar  age.  Other  directions  respecting  Chris- 
tians have  a  similar  meaning.  "  Love  not  the  world, 
neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.  If  any  man  love 
the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him.  For  all 
that  is  in  the  world,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of 
the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  life,  is  not  of  the  Father,  but 
is  of  the  world."  I  John  ii.  15,  16.  "  No  man  can  serve 
two  masters ;  for  either  he  will  hate  the  one,  and  love  the 
other  ;  or  else  he  will  hold  to  the  one,  and  despise  the 
other.  Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon."  Matth.  vi. 
24.  "For  do  I  now  persuade  men  or  God  ?  or  do  I  seek 
to  please  men  ?  for  if  I  yet  pleased  men,  I  should  not  be 
the  servant  of  Christ."  Gal.  i.  10.  "-  Know  ye  not  that 
the  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God  ?  Who- 
soever, therefore,  will  be  a  friend  of  the  world,  is  the 
enemy  of  God."  James  iv.  4.  The  text  is,  therefore, 
manifestly  a  precept  of  the  divine  law  that  is  to  extend 
its  jurisdiction  over  ah  the  times,  and  places,  and  circum- 
stances to  which  it  may  apply,  until  the  peculiar  commu- 
nity called  the  world,  shall  be  extinct. 

But  if  applicable  to  all  times,  to  what  class  of  actions 
does  it  apply  ?  Is  it  to  the  dress,  the  mind,  the  heart,  the 
demeanor,  the  conversation,  or  to  all  ?  Is  it  to  be  limited 
to  one  class  of  these  objects,  and  then  to  cease  in  its  in- 
fluence, or  is  it  to  extend  every  where  ?  I  answer,  it  is 
like  all  other  divine  laws.  They  are  given  in  a  general 
manner,  and  are  to  be  interpreted  on  the  same  principle. 
The  general  principle  of  the  laws  of  God  is,  that  they 
are  first  to  be  applied  to  the  heart  and  conscience,  and 
then  io  follow  out  all  the  conduct,  and  extend  their  juris- 
diction over  all.  Human  law  is  satisfied  if  it  can  control 
the  external  deportment,  and  preserve  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  the  community.  Divine  law,  extends  its 
purpose  of  control  to  the  heart.  If  a  proper  influence 
can  be  exerted  over  that,  it  supposes  that  all  will  be  well ; 
and  the  text  is  evidently  one  of  the  laws  of  Christian 
conduct,  enacted  on  this  principle.  The  terms  of  the  law 
are  applicable  either  to  the  mind,  or  to  the  external  de- 
portment;  to  the  feelings,  opinions,  and  principles  of 
action,  as  well  as  to  the  dress,  and  conduct  of  life.     Its 


CONFORMITY    TO    THE    WORLD.  237 

direct  aim  therefore,  is  the  heart;  its  indirect,  and  com- 
plete aim  is  reached  only  when  it  controls  the  entire  de- 
portment. 

It  is  still  asked  what  place  in  the  code  of  Christian 
laws  is  this  rule  designed  to  occupy  ?  Here  I  answer, 
1.  The  design  of  Ihis  law  is  not  to  keep  Christians 
from  open  vices  and  crimes.  That  is  placed  on  better 
defined  ground ;  and  it  is  presumed  that  Christians  cannot 
commit  them.  Those  things  which  are  absolutely  and 
grossly  evil,  are  made  the  subjects  of  express  statute. 
Crime  is  specified,  and  absolutely  forbidden.  It  is  not 
left  to  a  rule  so  easily  perverted;  so  capable  of  abuse  and 
variation,  as  the  simple  injunction,  not  to  be  conformed  to 
the  world.  It  is  expressly  declared  that  men  shall  not  be 
idolaters,  or  profane,  or  Sabbath-breakers,  or  haters  of  their 
parents,  or  liars,  or  adulterers,  or  thieves,  or  drunkards, 
or  revilers,  or  false  witnesses,  or  covetous.  1  Cor.  vi.  9, 
10.  Gal.  V.  19.  21.  Eph.  v.  4,  5.  Heb.  xii.  14  ;  xiii.  4.  Rev. 
xxn.  15.  Ex.  XX.  Whatever  may  be  the  conduct  of  the 
world  on  these  subjects,  the  law  of  God  is  positive,  and 
explicit.  2.  The  command  in  question  is  not  designed  to 
teach  Christians  that  they  should  not  coincide  with  the 
world  in  any  respect,  or  on  any  subjects.  It  is  not  to  be 
considered  as  enjoining  singularity  for  the  sake  of  sin- 
gularity. Such  a  purpose  would  be  unworthy  any 
legislator.  Unless  the  thing  forbidden  was  either  wrong 
in  itself,  or  was  attended  with  bad  consequences,  it  would 
be  the  evidence  of  tyranny  or  caprice,  not  of  wisdom,  to 
demand  separation.  The  conformity  then,  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed to  be  in  those  things  which  would  be  injurious 
to  the  object  which  the  lawgiver  had  in  view.  The  matter 
of  fact  is,  that  there  are  many  things  in  which  Christians 
and  others  may,  and  must,  externally  at  least,  coincide ; 
and  in  which  to  affect  singularity,  would  be  to  counte- 
nance evil.  When  the  apostle  directs  Christians  to  think 
of"  whatsoever  things  are  true,  and  honest,  and  just,  and 
pure,  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report  f  (Phil.  iv.  S.)  he 
evidently  supposes  that  in  these  things  Christians  are  to 
coincide  with  others.  Thus  also  it  is  in  respect  to  industry, 
charity,  temperance,  courtesy,  meekness,  order.  2  Thess. 
ill.  10.  Rom.  xii.  10,  11,  &c.   I  Pet.  ii.  17;  iii.  8.  Rom. 


238  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

xiii.  7,  8.  Gal.  v.  22.  If  the  men  of  the  world  are  in- 
dustrious, Christians  are  not  to  be  directed  to  be  idle; 
if  they  are  temperate,  Christians  are  not  to  be  intem- 
perate ;  if  they  are  courteous.  Christians  are  not  to  affect 
rusticity,  or  to  violate  the  proper  rules  of  refined  inter- 
course. On  these,  and  a  thousand  kindred  subjects,  Chris- 
tians and  the  world  are  to  coincide ;  nor  does  religion, 
common  sense,  or  good  morals,  demand  ox  permit  singu- 
larity. But  3.  There  is  a  large  class  of  objects  and  actions 
which  come  under  neither  of  these  denominations,  which 
are  not  fixed  by  absokite  statute,  and  which  it  might  yet 
be  proper  to  prohibit,  or  in  which  there  might  be  de- 
manded a  separation  from  the  world.  To  make  laws  on 
them  all,  would  be  endless.  These  actions  and  feehngs, 
the  principle  of  the  text  is  designed  to  influence  and  con- 
trol. The  general  principle  is  settled,  and  the  application 
is  to  be  made  by  the  conscience  of  each  Christian,  on  his 
own  responsibility.  These  actions  pertain  to  the  greater 
part  of  our  lives  and  intercourse.  It  is  not  often  that  a 
man  will  be  called  on  to  apply  the  statute  respecting 
murder  to  himself,  perhaps  never  ;  but  the  principles  of 
religion  pertaining  to  his  daily  conduct,  need  to  be  care- 
fully applied  to  the  ever  varying  forms  and  allurements 
of  the  world.  You  may  never  have  occasion  to  apply 
to  yourself  for  example,  the  ninth  commandment ;  but 
there  is  a  large  territory  of  acts — a  vast  field  over  which 
some  law  should  be  extended,  which  cannot  be  reached 
by  the  decalogue,  or  by  any  direct  statute.  Such  are  all 
those  acts  and  emotions  pertaining  to  dress  and  style  of 
life ;  to  modes  of  intercourse ;  to  gaiety  and  fashion  and 
equipage  ;  to  the  governing  purposes  of  the  heart  in  rela- 
tion to  our  intercourse  with  men  ;  to  the  rules  of  business  ; 
and  to  that  endless  variety  of  things  in  which  the  men  of 
the  world  consider  it  no  harm  for  them  to  indulge,  and  in 
which  they  indulge  freely.  Now  over  this  broad  terri- 
to7^y — this  vast  and  ever  varying  presentation  of  objects 
and  things,  God  has  left  the  simple  direction,  "  be  not 
conformed  to  this  world."  The  principles  of  the  life  are 
not  to  be  formed  by  the  opinions  of  the  world.  The  rule 
is  designed  to  occupy  this  vast  region  of  thought  and 
feeling,  over  which  there  could  not  be  the  formality  of 
express  statute  for  every  thing.     It  is  a  kind  of  balance 


CONFORMITY    TO    THE    WORLD.  239 

wheel  to  the  whole,  to  preserve  it  in  order ;  and  a  general 
direction,  that  in  relation  to  all  these  things,  the  opinion 
and  conduct  should  not  he  formed  by  the  views  of  the 
men  of  the  world,  but  by  other  principles.  The  law 
then,  I  suppose,  is  one  not  confined  to  the  age  of  Paul ; 
was  not  designed  to  control  things  in  themselves  abso- 
lutely criminal,  and  subject  to  express  statute ;  not  de- 
signed to  promote  singularity  for  the  sake  of  singularity, 
and  to  separate  Christians  from  the  world  in  things  which 
are  proper;  but  was  designed  to  reach  and  control  the 
conduct,  the  feelings,  and  deportment  in  that  vast  variety 
of  things  which  the  world  may  present  from  age  to  ag3 
as  objects  of  pleasure,  gaiety,  business,  luxury,  splendor, 
or  ambition. 

II.  Our  second  enquiry  is,  what  the  rule  is?  A  few 
remarks  may  enable  us  to  understand  this. 

1.  There  is  a  difference  contemplated  between  Chris- 
tians and  other  men — a  difference  pertaining  to  principles 
of  action,  to  feelings,  to  laws,  to  destiny.  1  Cor.  iv.  7. 
2  Cor.  vi.  14.  17.  Isa.  lii.  11.  Rev.  xviii.  4.  The  whole 
arrangement  by  which  this  difference  is  produced  and 
promoted,  shows  that  it  is  not  one  of  tritling  magnitude 
or  importance.  To  produce  it,  cost  the  labors  of  the  Son 
of  God,  "  who  gave  himself  for  us,  that  he  might  re- 
deem us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto  himself  a  pe- 
culiar people,  zealous  of  good  works."  Titus  ii.  14.  "But 
ye  are  a  chosen  generation,  a  royal  priesthood,  an  holy 
nation,  a  peculiar  people;  that  ye  should  show  forth  the 
praises  of  him  who  hath  called  you  out  of  darkness  into 
his  marvellous  light."  1  Pet.  ii.  9.  To  advance  this  work 
calls  into  exercise  all  the  means  of  grace,  and  all  the 
direct  operation  of  God  on  the  human  mind.  While  as 
men  we  have  many  things  in  common  with  other  men, 
yet  as  Christians  Ave  are  expected  to  possess  something 
original  and  peculiar.  There  is  no  change  in  the  human 
mind  so  great,  thorough,  and  abiding  as  that  of  regenera- 
tion. John  in.  1.  7 — compare  Eph.  ii.  10;  iv.  24.  There 
is  no  kingdom  more  different  from  all  other  kingdoms, 
than  the  empire  of  Christ  over  the  soul  is  unlike  all  other 
empires.  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,"  is  his  lan- 
guage, (John  xviii.  36,)  and  while  we  may  have  many 
things  in  common  with  others,  yet  as  Christians  his  em- 


240  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

pire  over  us  is  to  be  regarded  as  original  and  peculiar. 
His  law  is  to  form  our  opinions  and  practice,  and  his  will 
to  influence  our  conduct.  1  John  ii.  3,  6.  The  world 
may  be  governed  by  its  own  laws.  The  law^s  of  fashion 
may  control  one  portion  ;  the  laws  of  honor  another ; 
the  laws  of  ambition  a  third.  One  community  may  frame 
its  conduct  by  a  set  of  artificial  statutes,  meaning  or  un- 
meaning, which  may  have  been  agreed  on  respecting  the 
intercourse  of  the  theatre,  the  ball-room,  or  any  other 
place  of  amusement  or  of  business.  Another  community 
is  under  the  influence  of  the  laws  of  honor — so  called — 
and  those  laws  are  understood,  and  capable  of  being  writ- 
ten down.  The  CJu^istian  community  rises  in  the  midst 
of  all  others — subject  to  laws  of  its  own  voluntarily  as- 
sumed, and  claiming  that  their  jurisdiction  should  be  ad- 
mitted to  extend  over  all  the  thouglits  and  doings  of  the 
life.  It  claims  that  no  other  community  should  be  allow- 
ed to  originate  statutes  for  the  government  of  Christians, 
or  modify  their  laws,  or  demand  their  submission  to  its 
mandates.  It  claims  or/^/?z«/ jurisdiction  over  the  whole 
soul  and  body,  and  sternly  rebukes  the  interposition  of 
the  communities  under  the  influence  of  the  laws  of  honor, 
fashion,  or  vice,  if  they  come  in  with  a  claim  to  modify 
or  repeal  the  original  and  independent  statutes  of  the 
Christian  community.  Christianity  regards  all  such  inter- 
ference as  aggression.  If  they  coincide  with  Christianity 
in  any  thing,  or  in  every  thing,  it  is  well,  and  Christians 
are  not  to  afl*ect  singularity.  If  they  difter,  the  Christian 
community  has  another  rule  by  which  it  is  governed. 
Now  the  essential  idea  of  the  rule  which  I  am  wishing 
to  explain,  is,  that  Christianity  has  original  jurisdiction 
in  all  these  cases ;  that  the  laws  of  the  New  Testament 
are  the  last  appeal ;  and  that  as  far  as  this  community  is 
concerned,  its  statutes  are  to  govern — nor  are  they  to  be 
modified  by  any  intrusions  of  the  laws  of  any  other  com- 
monwealth. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  present  the  idea  clearly.  Let  me 
attempt  further  to  illustrate  it.  I  have  a  family  in  a  gay, 
wicked,  thoughtless  city.  I  am  surrounded  by  families 
which  have  diflferent  views  altogether  from  those  which 
I  have  on  the  various  subjects  of  employments  and  mo- 
rals.    As  the  head  of  that  family,  I  give  laws  by  which 


CONFORMITY    TO    TPIE    WORLD.  241 

I  expect  it  will  be  influenced.  Around  me  may  be  one 
family  governed  by  the  laws  of  fashion;  another  by  the 
laws  of  honor;  a  third,  perhaps,  by  certain  arbitrary 
rules  which  pick-pockets  and  highway-men  have  set  ut). 
I  do  not  interfere  with  them  ;  nor  do  I  say  that  in  no 
respects  shall  my  famaly  coincide  with  them.  If  they 
have  any  thing  commendable,  I  shall  not  denounce  it, 
nor  demand  that  my  children  shall  affect  singularity.  I 
shall  not  demand  alfected  singularity  in  quaint  and  un- 
usual modes  of  speech ;  in  an  inconvenient,  or  a  ridicu- 
lous style  of  dress ;  or  in  an  unnatural  and  forced  gait  or 
demeanor;  or  in  a  disgusting  or  an  odious  tone  of  utter- 
ance, for  the  mere  sake  of  singularity.  I  expect  my 
children  Avill  obey  my  original  laws,  and  remember  that 
/have  the  jurisdiction  in  the  premises.  If  my  neighbor 
presumes  to  legislate  in  the  case,  and  demands  that  my 
family  shall  forsake  my  lav/s ;  if  he  atfirms  that  tny  sta,- 
tutes  are  stern  and  harsh,  and  should  be  modified — that 
is  a  question  fc^r  me  to  consider,  not  for  him  to  legislate 
on.  Just  so  it  is  with  Christianity.  Christ  has  establish- 
ed a  sat  of  laws,  and  demanded  a  certain  course  of  life. 
If  the  members  of  any  other  community,  or  of  Mij 
others,  should  in  many  things,  or  in  all  things,  coincide 
with  what  religion  would  produce,  the  Christian  is 
not  to  affect  singularity  in  the  case.  The  question  is, 
whether  I  am  adhering  to  the  laws  of  the  peculiar  king- 
dom by  which  I  am  governed,  and  not  whether  others 
are  falling  in  with  those  laws  also.  What  effect  would 
the  Christian  religion  produce  if  obeyed  by  the  entire 
community,  and  if  its  principles  were  suffered  to  be  acted 
out  every  where  ?  That  is  the  question ;  and  not  what 
compound  and  motley  system  of  enactments  can  be  form- 
ed into  a  code,  by  amalgamathig  Christianity  with  the 
artificial  rules  which  regulate  your  communities  of  the 
gay  and  fashionable,  of  the  proud  and  ambitious. 

Let  us  take  another  illustration.  Lycurgns  framed  a 
code  of  laws  for  Sparta.  He  had  an  object  in  his  eye  in 
each  one  of  his  statutes,  and  he  i^esigncd  to  rear  a  pe- 
culiar community.  It  was  not  the  love  of  singularity; 
it  was  not  a  wish  to  differ  from  others  for  the  mere  sake 
of  being  different.  It  was  with  reference  to  his  great 
object — to  make  the  Spartans  valiant,  hardy,  laborious, 

21 


242  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

daring  freemen.  With  this  object  in  his  eye,  he  framed 
his  laws ;  and  this  design  was  understood  by  every 
Lacedemonian.  Suppose,  now,  he  had  left  some  such 
direction  as  the  text — '  Be  not  conformed  to  surrounding 
nations,  or  even  to  the  other  republics  of  Greece.'  The 
command  would  have  been  intelligible.  It  would  not 
mean,  '  do  not  in  any  thing  coincide  with  others,  for 
they  uiRY  t>e  temperate,  and  laborious,  and  valiant,  as 
well  as  you,  and  in  this  do  not  affect  singularity.  Their 
conduct  in  this  respect  is  just  what  is  required  of  you. 
Do  not  pursue  it  because  they  do,  but  because  it  will 
contribute  to  the  great  designs  of  the  republic'  The  com- 
mand would  forbid  conformity  to  other  people,  if  that 
conformity  should  interfere  with  tlie  purpose  of  the  Spar- 
tan lawgiver.  It  might  easily  be  seen  that  even  the  arts 
of  Athens,  the  extensive  attention  to  statuary  and  orna- 
mental architecture,  might  not  consist  with  the  main  de- 
sign of  the  Lacedemonian.  Innocent  as  they  might  be 
in  themselves,  or  consistent  as  they  might  be  in  the  mem- 
bers of  the  republic  of  Athens,  yet  should  the  Lacede- 
monians turn  their  attention  to  statuary  or  to  the  fine  arts 
as  a  people,  they  would  abandon  the  peculiar  design  of 
their  lawgiver  in  making  them  a  hardy  and  valorous  race 
of  freemen.  It  would  easily  be  seen  that  the  delicacies 
and  refinements  of  Corinth  ;  its  fashion  and  splendor,  its 
luxuries  and  amusements,  as  well  as  its  licentious  habits, 
would  be  inconsistent  with  the  design  of  the  Spartan. 
Whether  they  were  well /or  the  Corinthian  was  another 
question  ;  and  a  question  which  it  did  not  pertain  to  the 
Spartan  to  settle.  His  inquiry  w^as  of  a  diiferent  kind. 
What  was  the  will  of  the  lawgiver  ?  And  are  these  things 
consistent  with  his  plain  and  obvious  directions  ?  His  de- 
sign was  to  train  up  a  peculiar  community,  and  every 
member  of  that  community  was  qualified  to  judge  of 
that  design.  He  contemplated  that  no  other  one — not 
even  one  of  the  confederated  republics  of  Greece,  should 
presume  to  come  in  and  legislate  for  his  people.  If  his 
peculiar  design  was  consistent  with  their  views  and  con- 
duct, it  was  well.  They  would  be  conformed  to,  not  be- 
cause they  were  the  views  of  Athens  or  Corinth,  but 
because  they  contributed  to  the  great  purpose  of  the  La- 
cedemonian lawgiver.     In  no  case  had  they  a  right  to 


CONFORMITY  TO  THE  WORLD.  243 

originate  laws  for  his  people,  or  to  demand  that  his  laws 
should  be  conformed  to  their  views. 

Thus  with  tlie  Christian.  If  the  views  and  conduct  of 
others  coincide  with  his,  it  is  well.  If  they  do  not,  they 
are  not  at  liberty  to  come  in  and  demand  that  he  shall  be 
conformed  to  them.  He  has  higher  laws,  and  a  higher 
object.  He  has  a  purpose  which  strikes  on  to  eternity. 
His  aim  is  to  prepare  for  heaven.  Theirs,  to  live  for 
time.  Nor  can  they  claim  jurisdiction  over  conduct  that 
has  been  directed  by  the  Son  of  God,  and  that  he  has 
judged  best  in  ordering  his  peculiar  community.  The 
simple  question  is,  whether  a  proposed  course  of  conduct 
or  opinion  is  consistent  with  the  spirit  and  life  demanded 
by  the  King  of  Zion. 

The  amount  of  the  rule,  as  I  understand  it,  is,  that  no 
other  society  or  authority  is  permitted  to  originate  laws 
or  opinions  that  shall  control  the  Christian.  The  first 
act  of  his  religion  is  to  submit  to  the  laws  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  to  forsake  all  others  that  are  inconsistent  with 
his.  Acts  ix.  6  ;  xvi.  30.  No  matter  from  what  commu- 
nity they  have  been  derived,  they  are  to  be  abandoned. 
Be  it  from  the  society  of  the  vicious ;  the  men  of  honor 
or  of  ambition  ;  the  pleasure-loving,  the  rich  or  the  gay ; 
or  even  from  a  beloved  parent  or  friend,  if  inconsis- 
tent with  the  pure  spirit  of  the  gospel,  they  are  to  be 
abandoned.  Acts  iv.  19,  20;  v.  29,  and  Luke  xiv.  26, 
God  is  raising  up  a  peculiar  community — an  empire, 
amidst  many  other  empires  ;  a  kingdom  in  the  midst  of 
other  kingdoms — a  kingdom  of  seriousness,  and  prayer, 
and  love,  amidst  the  kingdoms  of  the  gay,  and  dissipated, 
and  the  worldly.  His  kingdom,  though  surrounded  by 
others,  is  designed  to  be  peculiar — not  for  the  love  of  sin- 
gularity, but  because  all  such  designs  involve  singularity. 
Thus  the  Athenian  was  singular  ;  the  Spartan  was  sin- 
gular ;  the  Corinthian  was  singular ;  the  Roman  was 
singular.  Thus,  too,  the  votary  of  pleasure  is  singular, 
and  the  follower  of  fashion  is  singular,  and  the  man  seek- 
ing wealth  and  honor  has  his  own  views  about  things, 
and  is  peculiar.  Each  society  has  its  own  laws  ;  and  the 
kingdom  of  God  is  not  designed  to  take  its  complexion, 
camelion  like,  from  surrounding  objects,  but  to  derive  its 
peculiar  features  from  the  laws  of  the  Son  of  God.     If 


244  PRACTICAL  SER3I0NS. 

the  Christian  community  is  singular,  it  is  not  because  God 
loves  singularity,  but  because  the  world  has  gone  out  of 
the  way,  and  its  maxims  are  an  improper  guide  for  those 
who  are  sacking  to  save  their  souls.  If  this  be  the  mean- 
ing, therefore,  of  the  rule,  we  are  prepared — 

III.  To  enquire  on  what  principles  it  may  be  applied  ? 

I  might  be  contented  with  observing  here,  that  this  is 
the  appropriate  business  of  every  Christian  ;  and  that 
God  has  made  him  responsible  for  the  honest  application 
of  the  rule  to  all  his  conduct.  No  small  part  of  our  pro- 
bation consists  in  ascertaining  whether  we  are  disposed 
faithfully  to  apply  the  rule,  or  whether  we  are  disposed 
to  be  governed  by  every  change  of  fashion,  by  every 
scene  of  amusement,  by  all  the  allurements  of  gaiety  and 
of  wealth.  It  would  seem  that  the  rule  was  of  easy  ap- 
plication, and  that  the  examination  of  ourselves  on  this 
head  would  be  one  of  the  least  difficult  parts  of  the  Chris- 
tian enquiry.  But  I  may  be  permitted  here  briefly  to 
specify  a  few  principles  on  which  the  rule  is  to  be  ap- 
plied. Remember,  here,  that  I  speak  to  Christians — 
those  who  belong  to  that  original  and  peculiar  commu- 
nity which,  the  Son  of  God  came  to  establish.  You  will 
remember  also  that  I  claim  no  infallibility  here,  or  cer- 
tainty that  I  am  right.  I  suggest  these  principles  as  they 
seem  to  me  to  be  demanded  by  the  rule. 

1.  You  are  not  to  regulate  your  feelings  and  views, 
your  apparel  and  manner  of  living,  your  conversation 
and  deportment,  with  a  view  of  leading  the  world  in 
their  own  ways  of  vanity,  pleasure,  and  ambition.  You 
are  not  to  seek  to  be  distinguished  in  the  manner  in  which 
they  seek  to  be  distinguished,  and  for  which  alone  they  live. 
The  people  of  the  world  are  tending  to  a  different  destiny 
from  the  Christian.  It  matters  little  in  what  way  they  go 
— whether  through  the  ball-room,  the  theatre,  or  any  other 
scene  of  vice  and  sin — they  are  going  to  their  own  home, 
and  it  is  a  sad  procession,  however  gay  or  gorgeous, 
where  a  Christian  moves  at  the  head  of  the  thoughtless 
throng  that  is  sporting  down  to  hell. 

2.  You  are  not  to  regulate  your  opinions,  and  feelings, 
and  conduct,  by  the  people  of  the  world.  You  are  not 
to  approve  of  a  thing  because  they  approve  of  it ;  to  do 
a  thing  because  they  do  it ;  to  love  a  thing  because  they 


CONFORMITY  TO  THE  WORLD.  245 

love  it ;  or  to  hate  a  thing  because  they  hate  it.  They 
have  their  own  views  of  these  things,  and  you  are  to 
have  yours — or  rather  you  are  to  imbibe  the  views  of  the 
Son  of  God.  With  the  feehngs  which  the  world  has 
about  the  objects  of  life,  a  thousand  things  may  be  con- 
sistent which  would  be  repugnant  to  the  laws  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ.  While  they  think  life  is  valuable 
only  because  it  ministers  to  the  appetites,  or  contributes 
to  pleasure,  numberless  objects  may  accord  with  their 
notions,  all  which  would  interfere  directly  with  the  de- 
sign for  which  the  Christian  lives,  and  with  the  laws  by 
which  he  is  governed.  If  they  have  no  other  object  in 
life  but  to  be  amused,  or  to  be  caressed  or  adored,  it  may 
be  well  to  deck  themselves,  and  sport  over  the  grave.  Their 
dance  will  soon  be  over.  So  have  I  seen  in  the  beams  of 
the  western  sun,  as  he  sank  behind  the  hills,  thousands  of 
gay  insects  sporting  in  the  departing  rays— joyous  in  the 
mazy  dance,  and  unconscious  that  they  were  in  the  last 
beams  of  the  parting  day — and  perhaps  in  the  last  fleeting 
seconds  of  a  very  brief  existence.  Soon  the  sun  withdrew 
his  beams,  and  darkness  came  over  the  earth,  and  the 
dance  was  ended,  and  also  their  life.  Another  generation 
may  play  in  those  beams  to-morrow.  But  this  one  is  gone. 
So  the  gay  and  thoughtless  world  moves  on  to  darkness 
and  to  death.  The  scenes  of  their  festivity  are  soon  to  end, 
and  darkness  will  cover  them,  and  in  the  sunshine  of 
gaiety  and  fashion  they  will  be  seen  no  more.  All  the 
joy  they  seek  or  desire  is  included  in  the  brief  summer 
sun  of  their  earthly  being— the  fast  fleeting  moments  of 
fashion,  pride,  and  folly  here.  To  seek  supremely  for 
adorning  and  admiration,  in  the  scenes  of  gaiety,  and  of 
sin,  and  of  amusement,  without  prayer  and  without  God, 
may  have  a  most  melancholy  consistency  with  their  views 
of  human  life.  Bat  for  you  who  are  living  for  eternity, 
and  looking  for  an  everlasting  dwelling  in  that  world 
which  has  no  need  of  the  moon,  nor  of  the  sun  ;  amidst 
the  splendors  of  that  world  where  the  Lord  God  and  the 
Lamb  are  the  light  thereof,  such  amusements  and  gaie- 
ties may  be  folly ;  may  be  worse — may  be  crime. 

2.  If  in  any  of  your  views  and  deportment  you  coin 
cide  with  the  world,  it  will  not  be  because  they  do  it,  but 
because  it  will  be  best.     I  know  that  this  principle  may 

21^ 


246  PRACTICAL    SERIVIO:>S. 

be  difficult  to  be  understood,  and  may  be  abused.  Still 
it  may  be  the  correct  principle  in  the  case.  Let  me  illus- 
trate it.  In  many  things,  as  I  have  remarked,  you  may 
coincide  with  the  world.  You  are  industrious.  So  are 
they.  But  your  industry  is  not  because  the  world  re- 
quires it,  but  because  it  is  best.  It  is  required  by  the  law 
of  your  religion.  You  are  temperate,  so  may  they  be. 
But  you  are  temperate,  not  because  this  is  the  fashion  of 
the  tvorld,  but  because  your  religion  demands  it.  You 
are  courteous,  polite,  kind.  So  may  be,  externally  at 
least,  the  people  of  the  world.  In  this  you  may  coincide. 
But  you  are  not  thus  because  they  are.  You  do  not  do 
it,  because  they  have  originated  it,  or  because  they  have 
the  right  to  dictate  its  forms.  You  do  it  because  it  is  the 
nature  of  your  religion.  It  prompts  to  kindness,  truth, 
courtesy,  tenderness  of  feelings  and  character,  mutual 
respect,  civility.  It  enthrones  on  the  heart  of  the  Chris- 
tian what  may  sit  loose  in  forin  only,  around  other  men. 
It  gives  vitality  to  what  elsewhere  may  be  a  mere 
shadow.  And  if  the  w^orld  changes  its  views  on  this 
subject,  and  adopts  any  system  of  intercourse  that  may 
consist  well  enough  with  its  views  of  morals,  you  are  not 
at  liberty  to  follow  it  if  it  is  a  departure  from  the  spirit 
of  Jesus  Christ.  A  mere  votary  of  the  world,  for  exam- 
ple, who  has  no  idea  of  morals  but  a  certain  artificial 
and  shapeless  standard  adopted  for  convenience,  may  in- 
corporate a  thousand  falsehoods  and  evasions  into  his 
system,  and  make  a  show  of  deception  a  part  of  his  well 
understood  rules  of  intercourse.  For  his,  or  her  purpose, 
and  in  accordance  with  his  or  her  views  of  truth,  it  may 
be  consistent  enough  to  say,  or  to  instruct  a  servant  to 
say,  that  they  are  not  at  home,  when  they  are  at  hom.e  ; 
or  to  say  that  they  are  sick,  when  they  not  sick ;  or  that 
they  are  engaged,  when  they  are  not  engaged.  For  a 
man  or  a  woman  who  is  devoted  to  the  service  of  the 
God  of  truth,  it  becomes  a  difi'erent  matter.  The  question 
of  conformity  to  the  world  in  this  thing,  conies  up  with 
reference  to  the  inquiry  Iiow  it  will  appear  before  Him 
who  cannot  lie,  and  where  it  will  be  too  late  to  deceive. 
You  are  regular,  decent,  comely  in  your  apparel,  and 
your  style  of  living.  It  is  not  because  the  world  does  it, 
but  it  is  the  nature  of  religion  to  produce  this  in  a  com- 


CONFORMITY    TO    THE     WORLD.  247 

munity.  It  elevates  and  refines;  produces  order,  and 
personal  neatness  and  propriety  of  living.  It  does  not 
require  the  man  of  wealth  to  seek  the  wigwam  of  the 
Indian,  or  the  hut  of  the  Laplander.  It  does  not  require 
him  to  become  a  hermit ;  nor  would  it  change  the  Chris- 
tian commnnity  into  monasteries.  It  does  not  say  that 
the  Christian  prince  or  man  of  wealth  should  clothe  him- 
self in  rags,  or  deny  himself  the  ordinary  comforts  con- 
nected with  the  rank  of  life  where  God  has  placed  him. 
It  demands  that  he  should  carry  out  the  influence  of  reli- 
gion on  that  rank  of  life — that  he  should  live  and  act  in 
a  certain  manner,  not  because  the  world  does  it,  but  be- 
cause Christian  propriety  demands  it — because  if  the  Chris- 
tian rehgion  were  extended  to  the  entire  community, 
there  would  be  men  who  had  wealth,  who  would  still  be 
Christian  men ;  there  v/ould  be  men  of  professional  skill 
and  talent,  who  would  be  Christian  men  ;  and  in  that  rank 
of  life,  it  would  be  as  easy  to  apply  the  principles  of  the 
gospel  to  what  a  man  has,  and  does,  as  it  would  be  in  a 
lar  inferior  station.  Christ  never  denounced  differences 
of  rank  in  life.  He  never  engaged  in  the  project  of  the 
dissatisfied  and  disorganizing  Roman  people,  in  the  de- 
mands for  an  Agrarian  law,  nor  in  the  covetous  schemes 
of  modern  infidelity  to  break  up  all  ranks  in  society,  to 
denounce  the  rich,  or  to  demand  that  all  property  should 
be  reduced  to  a  mass  to  be  subject  to  the  arts  of  a  cunning 
and  unprincipled  leader.  He  designed  a  scheme  of  reli- 
gion adapted  to  the  existence  of  various  orders  in  the 
community.  He  demanded  that  the  principles  of  the  rich 
should  no  more  be  modeled  after  the  judgment  of  the 
Avorld,  than  those  of  the  poor.  Live,  and  feel,  and  act  in 
this  situation  of  life,  is  the  language  of  his  gospel,  so  as 
in  the  best  way  to  evince  the  influence  of  the  gospel  in 
the  rank  of  life  in  which  you  are  placed. 

4.  A  fourth  obvious  principle  in  which  Christians  will 
apply  the  rule  is,  that  their  views  and  feelings  will  not  be 
prompted  by  a  desire  to  elicit  the  applause  and  approba- 
tion of  the  world.  Your  conduct  will  be  regulated  by  a 
higher  law.  It  is  not  to  produce  admiration,  envy,  rival- 
ship,  flattery,  competition,  that  you  live ;  it  is  not  to  be 
the  subject  of  conversation,  commendation,  or  praise ;  it 


248  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

is  TO  PLEASE  God.  If  the  kingdom  of  which  you  are  a 
member  stood  alone  ;  if  the  empires  of  this  world  were 
wholly  removed  to  other  abodes,  your  conduct  would 
then  be  regulated  by  the  Bible.  So  should  it  be  now. 
This  is  one  of  the  plainest  applications  of  the  rule.  And 
yet  if  honestly  applied,  what  a  sad  invasion  would  it 
make  in  the  Christian  church  !  Remove  from  the  follow- 
ers of  Christ  all  that  has  been  assumed  for  the  purpose 
of  being  admired  by  one  another  and  by  the  world  ;  all 
that  has  been  the  result  of  envy,  and  rivalship  ;  all  that  is 
adjusted  to  catch  the  passing  gale  of  applause ;  all  that 
comes  under  the  denomination  of  the  lust  of  the  flesh, 
the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  and  a  most 
fearful  flight  would  be  given  to  numberless  ornaments, 
and  a  most  sad  invasion  would  be  made  on  the  style  of 
Uving  in  every  Christian  community.  Stripped  of  the 
meretricious  decorations  which  the  world  has  persuaded 
and  enjoined  the  church  to  assume  ;  dressed  in  the  virgin 
purity  which  the  Son  of  God  has  prescribed  for  it,  it 
w^ould  at  once  rise  to  elevated  influence,  and  be  clad  in 
beauty  and  in  honor.  We  are  not  to  be  guided  by  the 
world.  But  there  is  an  old  Roman  maxim,  that  it  is  right 
to  be  taught  by  an  enemy.  And  if  in  any  thing  it  would  be 
right  to  listen  to  the  people  of  the  world  it  would  be  in 
this;  not  what  Xheyioish  us  to  be, but  what  they  understand 
our  religion  to  require.  Glad  would  they  be  that  every 
Christian  should  be  like  themselves.  But  well  do  they 
know  that  religion  demands  a  difference,  a  great  difference, 
an  eternal  difterence,  and  well  do  they  understand  that 
this  difterence  should  be  manifest  in  the  life.  And  never 
do  they  utter  sentiments  more  worthy  of  the  attention  of 
Christians  than  when  they  denounce  us  as  fools  or  hypo- 
crites for  conformit}^  to  their  own  senseless  and  vain 
opinions  about  the  scenes  of  gaiety  and  ambition — about 
the  theatre,  and  the  ball-room,  and  the  trifles  by  which 
they  contrive  to  amuse  themselves  in  the  brief  summer 
sun  in  which  they  are  moving  to  a  world  of  wo.  Chris- 
tians have  a  better  inheritance ;  and  much  and  well  do 
the  men  of  this  world  marvel  that  they  find  their  plea- 
sures in  their  scenes  of  gaiety  and  folly. 

5.  A  fifth  principle  of  the  rule.    It  forbids  all  mingling 


CONFORMITY    TO    THE    WORLD.  249 

with  the  world  which  is  inconsistent  with  the  great  objects 
of  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  or  which  will  not  on  the  whole 
tend  to  promote  it.  It  is  not  needful  to  state  what  those 
objects  are.  They  are  known  to  all  Christians.  They 
may  be  summed  up  in  a  desire  to  become  personally 
assimilated  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  bring  our  fellow-men 
to  the  hope  of  the  same  Heaven.  They  demand  of  course 
the  spirit  of  prayer,  of  seriousness,  of  self-denial ;  the 
faithful  discharge  of  our  duties  in  all  the  relations  of  life  ;  a 
conscientious  appropriation  of  our  time,  our  influence,  and 
our  wealth;  a  faithful  meeting  of  all  the  demands  made 
on  us  as  Christians  and  as  men.  God  has  given  us  enough 
to  do  ;  and  if  we  follow  his  will  we  shall  not  be  oppressed 
with  useless  time,  or  afflicted  with  ennui.  Now  with 
this  desire  to  do  precisely  what  will  be  approved  by  the 
mind  of  Christ,  we  may  apply  the  rule  before  us.  It 
will  be  a  test  of  the  propriety  of  a  thousand  things  which 
might  otherwise  be  the  subject  of  much  debate.  It  will 
constitute  a  nice  tact  by  which  we  may  approach  a  great 
variety  of  objects  without  danger  of  error.  A  child  can 
much  more  easily  decide  whether  a  thing  will  be  accepta- 
ble to  the  mind  of  his  father,  than  he  could  settle  its  j^ro- 
priety  by  argument.  The  inhabitant  of  Sparta  could  see 
at  once  that  many  things  were  inconsistent  vrith  the 
design  of  his  republic,  which  he  could  by  no  means  settle 
in  an  abstract  manner.  Whether  the  aim  of  the  Athenian 
was  proper,  or  the  mild  and  soft  pleasures  of  the  Corin- 
thian, he  might  not  be  able  to  settle  by  argument,  but 
this  would  not  be  the  way  in  which  "to  train  up  the 
Lacedemonian.  So  it  might  become  a  question  of  abstract 
casuistry  about  a  thousand  scenes  of  amusement.  It 
would  be  easy  to  argue  by  the  hour  in  favor  of  parties  of 
pleasure,  and  theatres,  and  ball-rooms,  and  all  the  vanity 
of  fashionable  life,  and  the  mind  might  "  find  no  end  in 
wandering  mazes  lost."  But  apply  the  rule  before  us, 
and  all  mist  vanishes.  Since  the  beginning  of  the  world, 
no  professing  Christian  ever  dreamed  that  he  was  imitat- 
ing the  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  or  honoring  the  Christian 
religion  in  a  theatre,  a  ball  room,  or  a  splendid  party  of 
pleasure.  And  equally  clear  would  be  the  decision  in 
reference  to  multitudes  of  pleasures  which  it  is  needless 
to  specify.     If  these  things  were  favorable  to  the  designs 


250  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  the  founder  of  Christianity,  they  might,  and  should 
have  been  enjoined.  But  how  singular  would  have  been 
such  directions  in  the  New  Testament !  How  marvel- 
lous would  appear  such  a  command  when  placed  beside 
those  which  enjoin  prayer,  and  spirituality,  and  humility, 
and  self-denial !  If,  by  the  patronage  of  such  places,  a 
man  is  promoting  the  Christian  religion  or  the  salvation 
of  his  soul,  then  they  may  be  lawful.  If  they  will  not 
bear  this  test  they  cannot  be  right,  and  may  he  dan- 
gerous. 

6.  A  sixth  principle  or  application  of  the  rule,  A 
Christian  should  have  a  spirit  and  temper  above  the  things 
that  influence  his  fellow-men.  Though  in  the  midst  of 
these  scenes,  yet  he  may  not  be  influenced  by  them.  A 
man  may  have  wealth,  and  it  may  be  manifest  that  his 
afl^ections  are  not  supremely  fixed  on  it.  He  may  be  sur- 
rounded by  a  thoughtless  world,  and  yet  be  evidently 
living  above  it.  Christianity  produces  a  spirit  that  is 
elevated  above  these  things ;  that  draws  its  consolations 
and  its  principles  of  action  from  far  different  objects.  A 
man  on  the  throne  may  be  a  Christian  as  really  as  in  a 
cottage,  and  he  may  become  a  nursing-father  to  the 
Church  with  all  the  splendor  of  the  diadem  on  his  brow, 
and  the  imperial  purple  flowing  in  his  train.  Thus  it 
may  be  manifest  that  Christianity  is  uppermost ;  that  the 
man  of  rank  and  wealth  desires  to  imbibe  its  spirit, 
and  to  difl'use  its  blessings  around  the  globe.  Rules,  you 
may  not  be  able  to  give  him,  but  to  the  man  himself,  and 
to  all  others,  it  may  be  clear  that  he  is  actuated  by  the 
love  of  God,  and  a  desire  to  be  useful  to  a  dying  world. 

Again.  A  man  may  be  placed  in  circumstances  which 
require  him  to  live  in  a  mode  which  to  a  poorer  man 
might  be  deemed  luxurious  or  extravagant.  Of  this  no 
other  man  can  be  the  judge.  To  his  own  master  he  stands 
or  falls.  But  Christianity  may  be  dilfused  over  all  his  con- 
duct. Let  him  be  at  least  as  large  and  liberal  in  reli- 
gion as  in  other  things.  Let  him  be  the  liberal  patron 
according  to  his  rank,  and  station,  and  wealth,  of  all  that 
would  promote  the  influence  of  religion,  and  the  exten- 
sion of  the  kingdom  of  the  Son  of  God  in  all  lands. 
Thus  it  is  that  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  may  as  really  take 
up  its  abode  in  the  mansions  of  wealth,  as  in  the  cottages 


CONFORMITY    TO    THE    WORLD.  251 

of  poverty ;  nor  is  there  any  reason  why  it  should  not 
reign  there,  and  interweave  itself  with  all  the  incidents 
of  life,  as  well  as  constitute  the  bright  and  lively  details 
in  the  "  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor."  Conformity 
to  the  world  may  exist  no  more  amidst  those  who  are 
blessed  with  wealth,  than  with  those  in  far  obscurer  life, 
and  the  man  possessed  of  the  riches  of  the  Indies  may  as 
little  think  of  it,  or  regard  it,  as  those  who  live  by  toil 
from  day  to  day.  That  religion  has  ever  yet  produced 
its  appropriate  influence  on  all  those  classes  of  men,  I  do 
not  maintain.  That  the  rule  in  our  text  may  not  be  ap- 
plied to  all  classes,  none  can  affirm. 

The  conclusion,  then,  to  which  we  have  come  is,  that 
in  this  rule  God  has  furnished  a  guide  to  numberless 
actions,  and  to  the  sph'it  of  the  life  ;  a  rule  which  no  man 
should  apply  to  his  neighbour,  but  which  every  man 
should  honestly  and  perpetually  apply  to  himself;  a  rule 
which  you  can  take  to  all  employments,  and  amidst  all 
the  enjoyments  of  life  ;  a  rule  which  may  show  its  influ- 
ence in  the  palace  and  the  cottage — on  the  throne,  and  in 
the  obscurest  dwelling  where  resides  a  ransomed  child  of 
God. 


SERMON  XVII. 

THE    BLESSINGS    OF    A    BENIGNANT    SPIRIT. 
Coll.  iii.  12.     Put  on,  therefore,  as  the  elect  of  God — ^kindness. 

What  an  invaluable  blessing  is  a  kind  and  benignant 
spiriC !  How  invaluable  to  an  individual,  in  a  family,  in 
a  church,  in  any  community  !  It  is  a  spirit  which  the 
gospel  is  adapted  to  produce ;  which  serves  much  to  re- 
move the  asperities  which  are  met  with  in  life  ;  which 
contributes  to  happiness  every  where.  My  wish,  at  this 
time,  is  to  illustrate  its  nature  and  importance ;  and  I 
shall  show, 

I.  In  what  it  consists ;  and 

II.  Its  value. 

I.  Kindness,  or  a  benignant  spirit,  consists  in  the  fol- 
lowing things. 

(1.)  In  a  dlsposilion  to  be  pleased— di  iviUingness  to 
be  satisfied  with  the  conduct  of  others  towards  us.  This 
disposition  lies  back  of  all  external  actions,  and  refers  to 
the  general  habit  of  feeling.  It  is  not  that  which  is 
created  by  any  sudden  impression  made  on  us,  or  by  re- 
ceiving from  others  any  proofs  of  favor ;  it  is  a  previous 
disposition  rather  to  be  satisfied  than  dissatisfied  ;  rather 
to  look  on  the  favorable  than  the  unfavorable  side  in  the 
conduct  of  others;  rather  to  suppose  that  they  are  right  than 
to  suppose  that  they  are  wrong  ;  and  rather  to  attribute  to 
them  good  motives  than  bad  motives.  It  is  such  a  dispo- 
sition that  if  we  ever  think  unfavorably  of  others,  it  is 
because  we  are  compelled  to  do  it  rather  than  because  we 
laish  to  do  it ;  such  that  any  moment  we  would  be  wil- 
ling to  listen  to  any  explanation  in  extenuation  of  their 
conduct. 

This  disposition  contributes  much  towards  our  being 
actually  pleased.  It  is  usually  not  difficult  to  find  enough 
in  others  that  we  can  approve  to  make  life  pleasant  and 
harmonious  when  we  are  disposed  to  ;  and  this  dis- 
position will  do  more   than   all   other  things  to   make 

252 


THE    BLESSINGS    OF    A    BENIGNANT    SPIRIT.  253 

social  life  move  on  with  comfort  and  with  joy.  This 
disposition  stands  opposed  to  a  spirit  of  fault-finding  and 
complaining  ;  a  temper  which  nothing  satisfies,  and  which 
notliing  pleases;  a  propensity  to  magnify  trifles  and  never 
to  forget  them ;  and  a  turn  of  mind  that  is  irritable,  and 
that  is  constantly  chafed  and  fretted.  For  this  latter  state 
of  mind  we  are  now  much  in  the  habit  of  blaming  the 
nervous  system,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  from  the 
intimate  connexion  between  the  mind  and  the  body,  a 
disordered  nervous  system  may  have  much  to  do  with 
such  a  temperament.  But  it  may  be  also  true  that  the 
body  is  often  blamed  when  the  soul  should  be,  and  that 
the  responsibihty  is  often  improperly  changed  from  the 
heart  to  the  nervous  system.  More  frequently  this  dispo- 
sition is  to  be  traced  to  long  habits  of  indulgence ;  to 
mortified  pride  ;  to  an  overweening  self-valuation  ;  to  the 
fact  that  the  respect  is  not  paid  us  which  we  think  Ave 
deserve ;  to  the  fact  that  the  heart  is  wrong,  and  the 
v/ill  obstinate  and  unsubdued.  The  spirit  of  the  gospel 
of  Cln'ist  would  do  more  to  eradicate  this  evil  disposition 
than  any  physical  applications  to  the  nervous  system,  and 
it  is  the  heart  rather  than  the  bodily  health  that  demands 
appropriate  treatment.  A  man  who  is  wilhng  to  be 
pleased  and  gratified  will  in  general  pass  pleasantly 
through  life.  He  who  is  willing  to  take  his  proper  place 
in  society,  content  with  the  small  share  of  public  notice 
Wiiich  properly  belongs  to  an  individual,  and  believing  it 
to  be  possible  that  others  may  be  as  likely  to  be  right  in 
their  opinions  as  he  is,  will  usually  find  the  journey  of 
hfe  to  be  a  pleasant  way,  and  will  not  have  mucli  occa- 
sion to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  world  at  large. 

(2.)  A  spirit  of  kindness  or  benignity  consists  in  a  dis- 
position to  attribute  to  others  the  possession  of  good  mo- 
tives when  it  can  be  done.  One  of  the  rights  of  every 
man  in  society  is,  to  have  it  supposed  that  he  acts  with 
good  intentions  unless  he  furnishes  irrefragable  proof  to 
the  contrary.  This  right  is  quite  as  valuable  as  the  right 
to  *'  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness" — and  is 
essential  to  them  all.  He  may  do  me  a  more  palpable 
and  lasting  wrong  who  ascribes  to  me  a  bad  motive,  than 
he  does  who  takes  my  purse  ;  and  he  has  no  more  right 
to  do  the  one  than  the  other.     Now  there  are  many 

22 


254  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

actions  performed  which  may  be  either  from  a  good  or 
bad  motive.  There  are  many  where  the  action  may  be 
attended  with  injurious  consequences  when  the  motive  is 
good.  There  are  many  where  the  motive  may  be  for  a 
long  time  concealed ;  where  we  may  not  be  permitted  to 
understand  why  it  was  done  ;  and  where  it  may  seem  to 
have  been  originated  from  the  worst  possible  intention. 
In  all  such  cases,  it  is  our  duty  to  suppose  that  the  motive 
was  good  until  the  contrary  becomes  so  clear  that  it  can 
no  longer  be  doubted.  Where  an  action  may  be  perform- 
ed from  either  a  good  or  a  bad  intention,  it  is  a  mere  act 
of  justice  that  we  should  attribute  the  correct  and  noble 
motive  in  the  case  rather  than  evil  one — or  at  least  that 
we  should  not  assume  that  the  motive  was  bad — for  "  love 
rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth  ;  bear- 
eth  all  things  ;  believeth  all  things ;  hopeth  all  things : 
endureth  all  things;  and  never  faileth."  1  Cor.  xiii. 
6,  7,  8.  Yet  there  are  some  persons  who  seem  never  to 
have  heard  of  this  rule.  The  worst  possible  motive  is  at 
once  suspected.  The  worst  construction  is  given  to  an 
action.  In  the  view  of  such  persons  every  circumstance 
combines  to  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the  motive  was  a 
bad  one.  Such  persons,  too,  will  have  that  unhappy 
species  of  memory  which  recollects  all  the  ill  of  another, 
and  forgets  all  the  good ;  and  when  an  action  is  perform- 
ed of  doubtful  character,  it  is  surprising  what  a  number 
of  similar  deeds  will  be  found  to  have  been  treasured  up 
in  the  memory  all  going  to  confirm  the  suspicion  that  the 
motive  was  a  bad  one.  Now  a  spirit  of  benignity  and 
kindness  will  lead  us  to  pursue  directly  the  contrary  course. 
The  first  impression  on  such  a  mind  will  be,  that  the  action 
was  performed  from  a  good  motive.  That  impression  will 
be  retained  until  there  is  positive  proof  to  the  contrary ; 
and  will  be  confirmed  by  the  recollections  of  the  former 
life.  The  good  will  have  been  remembered  ;  the  evil  will 
have  been  forgiven  and  forgotten.  Past  deeds  of  unkind- 
ness  towards  you  will  be  found  to  have  been  written  in 
sand  which  the  next  wave  washed  away  ;  deeds  of  benefi- 
cence will  be  found  to  have  been  engraved  on  marble  or 
steel.  A  kind  memory  has  treasured  up  all  the  favors  ever 
shown  you — and  now  they  come  flocking  to  your  recoUec- 


THE    BLESSINGS    OF    A    BENIGNANT    SPIRIT.  255 

tion,  and  help  to  throw  the  mantle  of  charity  over  the  act 
now  even  if  it  bo  wrong. 

(3.)  A  spirit  of  benignity  or  kindness  consists  in  bear- 
ing with  the  foibles,  infirmities,  and  faults  of  others.  We 
do  not  go  a  great  distance  with  any  fellow-traveller  on 
the  journey  of  life,  before  we  find  that  he  is  far  from  our 
notions  of  perfection.  He  has  a  temperament  different 
from  our  own.  He  may  be  sanguine,  or  choleric,  or 
melancholy  in  his  temperament,  while  we  are  just  the 
reverse.  He  has  peculiarities  of  taste,  and  habit,  and 
disposition,  which  differ  much  from  our  own.  He  has 
his  own  plans  and  pin^poses  in  life  ;  and  like  ourselves  he 
does  not  like  to  be  crossed  or  embarrassed.  He  has  his 
own  way  and  time  of  doing  things  ;  his  own  manner  of 
expression ;  his  own  modes  of  speech.  He  has  grown 
up  under  other  influences  than  those  which  have  affected 
our  minds  ;  and  his  habits  of  feeling  may  be  regulated 
by  his  education,  and  by  his  calling  in  life.  Neighbors 
have  occasion  to  remark  this  in  their  neighbors ;  friends 
in  their  friends;  kindred  in  their  kindred.  In  proportion 
as  the  relations  of  life  become  more  intimate,  the  more 
these  peculiarities  become  visible ;  and  hence  the  more 
intimate  we  become,  the  more  necessity  there  is  for  bear- 
ing patiently  with  the  frailties  and  foibles  of  others.  In 
the  most  tender  connections,  like  that  between  a  hus- 
band and  wife  ;  a  parent  and  child  ;  a  brother  and  sister, 
it  may  require  much  of  a  gentle  and  yielding  spirit  to 
adapt  ourselves  to  their  peculiarities  so  that  life  shall 
move  on  smoothly  and  harmoniously.  When  there  is  a 
disposition  to  do  this,  we  soon  learn  to  bear  and  forbear. 
We  understand  how  to  avoid  the  look,  the  gesture,  the 
allusion,  the  remark  that  would  excite  improperly  the 
mind  of  our  friend.  We  dwell  on  those  points  where 
there  is  sympathy  and  harmony ;  and  we  thus  remove 
the  asperities  of  character,  and  the  feelings  and  affec- 
tions meet  and  mingle  together.  With  any  one  of  our 
friends  there  may  be  enough,  if  excited,  to  make  life  with 
him  uncomfortable.  A  husband  and  wife — such  is  the 
imperfection  of  human  nature — can  find,  if  they  will, 
enough  in  each  other  to  embitter  life,  if  they  choose  to 
magnify  foibles,  and  to  become  irritated  at  imperfections ; 
and  there  is  no  friendship  which  may  not  be  marred  in 


256  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

this  way  if  we  will  suffer  it.  The  virtues  of  life  are 
tender  plants.  Love  is  most  cleHcate  in  its  texture,  and 
may  not  he  rudely  handled.  To  he  preserved,  we  must 
cease  to  expect  perfection.  We  must  he  prepared  for 
little  differences  of  opinion,  and  varieties  of  temperament. 
We  must  indulge  the  friend  that  we  love,  in  the  little  pe- 
culiarities of  saying  and  doing  things  whicli  may  be  so 
important  to  him,  but  which  can  be  of  so  little  moment  to 
us.  Like  children,  we  must  suffer  each  other  to  build  his 
own  play-house  in  his  own  way,  and  not  quarrel  with 
him  because  he  does  not  think  our  way  the  best.  If  we 
have  a  spirit  of  kindness,  we  shall  cease  to  look  for  per- 
fection in  any  others ;  and  this  is  much  in  promoting  our 
own  happiness  in  any  relation  of  life.  It  will  make  us 
indulgent,  and  forgiving,  and  tender.  Conscious  of  our 
own  imperfection,  we  shall  not  harshly  blame  others; 
sensible  how  much  we  need  indulgence,  we  shall  not 
withhold  it  from  them ;  feeling  deeply  how  much  our 
happiness  depends  on  their  being  kind  toward  our  frail- 
ties and  foibles,  we  shall  not  be  unwilling  to  evince  the 
same  indulgence  towards  l/ie?n. 

(4.)  A  kind  and  benignant  spirit  is  shown  by  our  not 
blaming  others  with  undue  harshness  when  they  fail  into 
sin.  In  no  circumstances  does  frail  human  nature  need 
more  of  the  kindness  of  charity  and  forgiveness — no 
where  usually  is  less  benignity  shown.  We  weep  with 
the  father  who  has  lost  his  only  son  ;  we  sympathize 
with  the  man  who  has  lost  his  all  in  a  storm  at  sea ;  we 
compassionate  him  who  is  deprived  of  the  organs  of 
vision  or  of  hearing,  to  whom  the  world  is  always  dark, 
or  who  is  a  stranger  to  the  sweet  voice  of  wife  or  child, 
or  to  the  soul-stirring  harmony  of  music.  But  when  a 
man  is  overtaken  by  a  fault,  all  our  sympathies  at  once 
usually  die.  We  feel  that  he  has  cut  all  the  cords  that 
bound  him  to  the  living  and  the  social  world,  and  that 
henceforth  he  is  to  be  treated  as  an  alien  and  an  outcast. 
We  exclude  him  from  our  social  circles.  We  strip  him 
of  oflice.  We  bind  and  incarcerate  him.  We  place  him 
in  a  dark,  damp,  cold  dungeon.  We  feed  him  on  coarse 
fare.  We  separate  him  from  wife,  and  children,  and 
home,  and  books,  and  friends.  To  a  certain  extent  all 
this  is  inevitable  and  proper.     We  owe  it  to  ourselves ; 


THE    BLESSINGS    OF    A    BENIGNANT    SPIRIT.  257 

we  owe  it  to  the  community.  But  we  need  not  with- 
hold our  kindness  from  an  offending  brother.  We  need 
not  withdraw  all  the  expressions  of  benignant  feeling. 
"Brethren,"  says  Paul,  "  if  a  man  be  overtaken  in  a  fault, 
ye  which  are  spiritual  restore  such  an  one  in  the  spirit  of 
meekness,  considering  thyself,  lest  thou  also  be  tempted." 
Gal.  vi.  1.  "  Love  suffereth  long  and  is  kind  ;  love  is  not 
easily  provoked  ;  thinketh  no  evil ;  believeth  all  things ; 
hopeth  all  things."  Let  the  following  things  be  remem- 
bered when  a  brother  is  accused  of  a  fault.  (1.)  He  is 
a  brother  still.  He  has  the  same  corrupt,  fallen,  ruined 
nature  that  we  have — and  originally  no  worse.  "John 
Banyan,  but  by  the  grace  of  God,"  was  the  honest  ex- 
pression of  the  author  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  when 
he  saw  a  poor  victim  of  profaneness  and  intemperance. 
That  erring,  guilty,  and  wretched  man — that  man  of 
guilt,  and  profaneness,  and  crime,  is  thy  brother.  You 
and  he  had  the  same  father.  The  same  blood  flows  in 
your  veins  and  his.  That  wretched  female— that  frail 
and  guilty  woman — is  thy  sister.  You  had  a  common, 
erring  mother.  She  once  had  sympathies  like  thine  own. 
She  once  had  a  heart  that  could  love  and  be  loved,  like 
thine.  She  had  a  mother  that  loved  her  as  thine  loved 
thee.  She  once  was  playful,  and  blithe,  and  happy,  when 
a  child — and  perchance  beautiful  and  accomplished,  as 
others  are.  Fallen,  and  ruined,  and  guilty  as  she  may 
be,  she  is  not  beyond  the  possibility  of  being  saved  ;  she 
is  not  beyond  the  reach  of  prayer.  For  the  soul  of  that 
same  guilty  and  erring  daughter  of  vice,  the  Saviour's 
blood  was  shed  as  well  as  for  thine  own ;  and  the  "  kind- 
ness and  love  of  God  our  Saviour"  may  yet  recover  even 
her,  and  make  her  a  companion  with  thyself  in  glory. 
Remember  (2.)  that  when  another  seems  to  fall  into  sin, 
if  you  understood  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  its 
aspect  might  be  greatly  changed.  "  Judge  not,  that  ye 
be  not  judged  ;  condemn  not,  that  ye  be  not  condemned," 
was  the  command  of  the  Master.  Luke  vi.  37.  "  Above 
all  things  have  fervent  charity  among  yourselves  ;  for 
charity  shall  cover  the  multitude  of  sins."  1  Pet.  iv.  8. 
Remember  (3.)  that  when  a  brother  seems  to  err  or  fall, 
it  is  possible  that  an  explanation  may  remove  all  the 
difficulty.     Give  him  that  opportunity.    It  is  due  to  him. 

22* 


258  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

AppearaDces,  which  he  could  not  control,  may  have  been 
sadly  against  him;  and  malignant  enemies  may  have 
helped  the  matter  on.  It  is  dne  to  him  to  allow  him  a 
fall  opportunity  to  explain  all.  A  kind  spirit  would  make 
you  ready  to  listen ;  and  the  same  spirit,  when  he  has 
confessed  his  error — if  he  has  done  wrong — would  lead 
you  to  say,  'My  brother,  I  forgive  you.  The  offeiice 
shall  be  remembered  no  more.  I  will  forgive  you  as  Christ 
hath  forgiven  me.  Your  fault  shall  not  be  alluded  to  in  our 
intercourse  ;  it  shall  not  be  allowed  to  make  me  unkind, 
or  suspicious ;  and  I  will  never  refer  to  it  to  harrow  up 
your  feelings,  or  to  suffuse  your  cheeks  with  shame.  So 
Christ  hath  forgiven  me;  so  I  forgive  you.'  (5.)  A  kind 
and  benignant  spirit  is  that  which  prompts  us  to  aid  others 
Avhen  in  our  power.  It  wishes  well  to  the  stranger;  to  the 
v/ayfaring  man  ;  to  the  fatherless  ;  to  the  poor  ;  to  the  pri- 
soner ;  to  the  oppressed.  It  looks  rather  on  considerations 
why  they  sliould  be  aided  than  on  those  why  they  should 
not  be ;  and  asks  the  question,  not  how  much  we  must 
do  for  them,  but  how  much  we  may  do.  On  the  man  who 
has  failed  in  business  honorably  to  himself,  or  v/ithout 
dishonor,  it  looks  with  benignity,  and  asks  in  what  way 
he  may  be  assisted,  and  not  how  his  fall  may  be  accele- 
rated. The  poor  man  at  the  door  it  meets  with  the  en- 
quiry whether  he  may  be  assisted  consistently  with  other 
duties  and  obligations.  For  the  man  in  oppression,  it 
seeks  relief  when  it  can  be  done,  and  prompts  to  mea- 
sures to  secure  it.  V/hen  relief  is  almost  hopeless,  still  it 
looks  benignantly  towards  the  sufferer,  and  is  willing  to 
listen  to  any  suggestions  for  his  aid.  It  does  not  lead  us 
at  once  to  sit  down  as  if  nothing  can  be  done — appalled 
by  the  magnitude  of  the  evil,  or  indifferent  to  it ;  nor 
does  it  lead  us  to  favor  the  opinion  that  all  attempts  at 
relief  are  improper,  or  to  be  abandoned. 

I  may  add,  on  this  point,  that  where  relief  cannot  be 
afforded,  it  should  be  declined  with  a  gentle  and  bene- 
volent heart.  It  often  happens,  from  the  necessity  of  the 
case,  that  we  must  decline  aid  to  the  poor,  to  the  needy, 
to  the  stranger,  and  to  the  cause  of  humanity  and  religion 
at  large.  Circumstances  put  it  out  of  our  power  to  assist 
them.     But  it  mitigates  the  evil  if  benevolence  beams  in 


THE   BLESSINGS  OF  A  BENIGNANT  SPIRIT.  259 

the  eye,  and  gentleness  and  love  dictate  the  terms  by 
which  it  is  done.  It  may  become  pleasant  even  to  have 
an  appUcation  rejected.  It  may  be  done  with  so  much 
good  will  and  sincerity ;  where  it  is  so  evident  that  the 
heart  is  in  it ;  where  there  is  such  a  manifest  wish  that 
the  circumstances  were  different,  that  the  pain  of  the  re- 
fusal shall  all  be  taken  away,  and  good  shall  be  done  to 
the  soul  even  where  the  aid  sought  for  the  body  could 
not  be  granted.  We  are  often  troubled  by  applications 
for  aid — I  say  troubled,  from  their  frequency,  and  be- 
cause we  allow  them  to  trouble  us.  We  are  liable  to 
constant  solicitations  of  this  sort — solicitations  all  of 
which  we  cannot  comply  with.  It  can  neither  be  right 
for  us,  nor  would  it  be  possible  for  us  to  comply  with 
them  all.  Part  of  those  who  apply  to  us  for  assistance 
we  know ;  part  are  strangers  whom  we  may  never  see 
again.  Yet  we  are  to  remember  that  most  of  them  are 
children  of  misfortune.  Many  of  them  have  by  nature 
sensibilities  as  keen  as  we  ourselves,  and  they  will  feel 
a  cold  look  and  a  stern  repulse  as  much  as  we.  We  are 
to  remember,  too,  that  not  a  few  of  them  suffer  more  from 
the  necessity  of  asking  assistance  than  from  almost  any 
other  ill  of  life.  Long  will  a  widowed  mother  suffer  from 
poverty  and  want,  before  she  will  go  to  the  stranger  to 
seek  assistance.  Long  would  she  suffer  still  rather  than 
do  it,  but  it  is  not  her  own  sufferings  that  prompt  her  to 
it ; — it  is  the  cry  of  her  children  for  bread,  the  desolation 
of  her  home  without  fuel,  and  without  food,  and  without 
work,  that  compels  her  to  subdue  her  strong  reluctance 
to  solicit  charity,  and  she  does  this  under  a  depth  of  min- 
gled, agitated  emotions  which  the  affluent  never  know. 
If  to  all  this  there  is  now  to  be  added  the  cool  repulse  ; 
the  harsh,  forbidding  look  ;  the  refusal  even  to  hear  the 
simple  story  of  her  sufferings,  and  the  sufferings  of  her 
children,  and  if  she  is  to  return  and  say  to  them  that  no- 
thing can  be  obtained  for  them — and  to  see  them  Aveep 
and  suffer  the  more  by  disappointment,  you  infuse  the 
bitterest  dreg  into  her  cup  of  v/oes.  Christian  kindness 
would  have  mitigated  all ;  Christian  kindness  might  have 
prompted  to  that  little  aid  from  your  superabundant 
wealth,  which  not  being  missed  in  your  dwelling,  would 
have  made  hers  to  her  like  Eden.     The  same  thing  is 


260  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

true  when  help  is  asked  for  any  object  of  beneficence. 
The  man  who  asks  your  aid  to  reUeve  a  people  suffering 
the  evils  of  famine ;  or  to  help  a  family  whose  all  has 
been  consumed  by  fire  ;  or  to  liberate  a  slave  from  bond- 
age ;  or  to  enable  a  man  to  purchase  his  wife  or  children 
in  order  that  they  all  may  be  free  together ;  or  to  send 
the  preached  gospel  to  the  heathen  world,  has  a  right  to 
a  kind  reception.  On  his  part  it  is  a  work  of  benevo- 
lence, in  which  he  is  usually  no  more  interested  than  we 
are — and  in  doing  it  he  may  have  overcome  much  reluc- 
tant feeling,  and  sacrificed  many  comforts,  from  the  strong 
conviction  of  duty.  He  has  a  right  to  expect,  where  aid 
cannot  be  granted  for  his  object,  that  his  feelings  shall 
not  be  harrowed  up  by  an  uncivil  and  cold  reception.  If 
aid  is  declined,  he  has  a  right  to  expect  that  it  should  be 
in  gentleness  and  love — so  declined  that  it  may  be  plea- 
sant for  him  and  for  you  to  meet  when  your  circumstances 
shall  be  better. 

(6.)  Once  more.  A  kind  spirit  should  be  shown  to- 
ward those  who  are  applied  to  for  aid,  and  who  decline 
to  assist  us.  Here,  I  fear,  we  walk  sometimes  not  chari- 
tably toward  others.  We  apply  to  them  for  assistance, 
and  are  refused.  How  natural  to  feel  that  there  was 
something  unkind  in  it !  Especiahy  is  this  so,  if  we  see 
him  to  whom  we  apply  live  in  a  splendid  house,  and  sur- 
rounded with  the  means  of  luxur}^ ;  or  if  we  find  him 
engaged  in  a  large  business ;  or  if  we  see  him  rolling 
along  in  his  carriage.  And  it  may  be  difficult  to  avoid 
the  conviction  that  he  might  easily  have  assisted  us,  and 
that  he  is  a  man  of  a  narrow  and  parsimonious  spirit.  I 
admit  too,  that  in  not  a  few  instances  this  irresistible  con- 
viction may  be  well  founded  ;  and  I  admit,  too,  that  there 
is  always  an  inconsistency — a  painful,  and  I  beUeve  a 
guilty  inconsistency — where  this  style  of  living  is  main- 
tained, and  where  the  hand  is  systematically  closed 
against  the  objects  of  Christian  benevolence.  But  there 
is  often  much  that  may  be  said  that  would  mitigate  the 
harshness  of  your  judgment.  You  see  one  side.  But 
you  may  not  know  how  much  he  is  embarrassed  in  busi- 
ness ;  or  how  much  he  secretly  gives  away  to  other  ob- 
jects ;  or  how  many  poor  relations  he  may  have  dependent 
on  him ;  or  how  imperative  may  be  the  demand  on  him 


THE  BLESSINGS  OF  A  BENIGNANT  SPIRIT.  261 

just  now  to  meet  pressing  obligations.  For  one,  I  am 
endeavoring  to  learn  to  exercise  more  charity  for  those 
Avho  seem  to  me  to  be  able,  and  who  fall  below  the  stand- 
ard in  benevolence  which  I  should  regard  as  the  true  one. 
I  thmk  on  two  things ;  first,  that  I  do  not  know  all  the 
circumstances  in  the  case ;  and  second,  that  to  his  own 
master  each  one  standeth  or  falleth.  It  is  his  business, 
not  mine.  I  can  insist  only  as  a  right  that  he  should 
show  "  kindness'''' — whether  he  give  or  withhold.  In 
other  things  he  must  act  as  he  shall  answer  it  to  God. 
Such  are  some  of  the  things  involved  in  kindness — a  dis- 
position to  be  pleased — a  readiness  to  impute  good  mo- 
tives— a  patient  bearing  with  the  faults  and  foibles  of 
others — a  disposition  not  to  blame  them  harshly  when 
they  fall — a  readiness  to  aid,  and  kindness  when  aid  can- 
not be  rendered — and  a  charitable  spirit  toward  those 
who  refuse  to  aid  us  Avhen  we  apply  to  them.     Let  us, 

II.  In  the  second  place,  consider  the  value  of  this 
spirit.  A  few  remarks  will  be  all ;  and  with  these  I  shall 
close.     In  illustrating  this,  I  observe, 

(1.)  That  much  of  the  conifor^t  of  life  depends  on  it. 
Life  is  made  up  of  little  things  that  are  constantly  occur- 
ring, but  which  if  disarranged  or  displaced  render  us  mis- 
erable. Breathing  is  in  itself  a  small  matter,  and  ordinarily 
scarcely  noticed  ;  the  beating  of  the  heart,  and  the  gentle 
flowing  of  the  blood  are  in  themselves  small  matters,  and 
it  is  only  when  they  are  deranged  or  laborious  that  we 
become  sensible  of  their  importance.  So  in  morals  and 
in  social  intercourse.  The  happiness  of  life  depends  not 
so  much  on  great  and  illustrious  deeds  ;  not  so  much  on 
glory  in  the  field  of  battle,  or  splendid  talents,  or  brilliant 
eloquence,  or  the  stern  virtues  that  shine  in  daring 
achievements,  as  in  the  quiet  duties  that  are  constantly 
occurring.  It  is  in  the  kind  look  ;  the  gentle  spirit ;  the 
peaceful, calm, contented  disposition;  the  cheerful  answer; 
tlie  unaffected  and  unobtrusive  interest  in  the  welfare 
of  others ;  the  mild  eye  and  the  smooth  brow  which 
show  that  the  heart  is  full  of  love.  When  these  are  what 
they  should  be,  they  are  to  social  intercourse  what  unob- 
structed breathing,  and  the  healthful  flow  of  blood  along 
the  numerous  arteries  and  veins  of  the  body  are  to  the 
vigor  and  comfort  of  the  bodily  system.     Life  cannot  be 


262  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

happy,  if  it  can  be  prolonged,  without  them ;  and  when 
these  things  do  not  exist,  comfort  dies. 

(2.)  Usefulness  depends  on  this  no  less  than  happiness. 
A  man's  usefulness  in  the  Christian  life  depends  far  more 
on  the  kindness  of  his  daily  temper,  than  on  great  and 
glorious  deeds  that  shall  attract  the  admiration  of  the 
world,  and  that  shall  send  his  name  down  to  future  times. 
It  is  the  little  rivulet  that  glides  through  the  meadow,  and 
that  runs  along  day  and  night  by  the  farm-house  that  is 
useful,  rather  than  the  swollen  flood,  or  the  noisy  cataract. 
Niagara  excites  our  wonder,  and  fills  the  mind  with 
amazement  and  awe.  We  feel  that  God  is  there  ;  and  it 
is  well  to  go  far  to  see  once  at  least  how  solemn  it  is  to 
realize  that  we  are  in  the  presence  of  the  Great  God,  and 
to  see  what  wonders  his  hand  can  do.  But  one  Niagara  is 
enough  for  a  continent — or  a  world ;  while  that  same 
world  needs  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  silvery 
fountains,  and  gently  flowing  rivulets,  that  shall  water 
every  farm,  and  every  meadow,  and  every  garden,  and 
that  shall  flow  on  every  day  and  every  night  with  their 
gentle  and  quiet  beauty.  So  with  life.  We  admire  the 
great  deeds  of  Howard's  benevolence,  and  wish  that  all 
men  were  like  him.  We  revere  the  names  of  the  illustrious 
martyrs.  We  honor  the  man  who  will  throw  himself  in 
the  "  imminent  deadly  breach,"  and  save  his  country — 
and  such  men  and  such  deeds  we  must  have  when  the 
occasion  calls  for  them.  But  all  men  are  not  to  be  useful 
in  this  way — any  more  than  all  waters  are  to  rush  by  us 
in  swelling  and  angry  floods.  We  are  to  be  useful  in 
more  limited  spheres.  We  are  to  cultivate  the  gentle 
charities  of  life.  We  are  by  a -consistent  walk  to  benefit 
those  around  us— though  in  a  humble  vale,  and  though 
like  the  gentle  rivulet  we  may  attract  little  attention,  and 
may  soon  cease  to  be  remembered  on  earth.  Kindness 
will  always  do  good.  It  makes  others  happy — and  that 
is  doing  good.  It  prompts  us  to  seek  to  benefit  others — 
and  that  is  doing  good.  It  makes  others  gentle,  and  be- 
nignant— and  that  is  doing  good. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  also,  that  it  is  by  the  temper, 
and  by  the  spirit  that  we  manifest,  that  the  world  forms 
its  opinion  of  the  nature  of  religion.  It  is  not  by  great 
deeds  in  trying  circumstances  that  men  will  judge  of  the 


THE    BLESSINGS    OF    A    BENIGNANT    SPIRIT.  263 

nature  of  the  gospel.  The  world  at  large  cares  little  how 
Ignatius  and  Polycarp  felt  or  how  they  died.  Perhaps 
the  mass  of  those  around  you  never  heard  their  names. 
They  are  little  impressed  by  the  virtues  which  Latimer, 
and  Ridley,  and  Cranmer  evinced  at  the  stake.  But  that 
unbelieving  husband  cares  much  for  the  gentle  and  kind 
spirit  of  the  wife — for  all  his  happiness  depends  on  it ; 
that  brother  is  interested  much  in  the  conversation  and  the 
spirit  of  his  sister — for  he  daily  observes  her  temper,  and 
is  forming  his  views  of  religion  from  what  he  sees  in  her; 
that  child  is  constantly  marking  the  temper  of  the  father 
and  the  mother,  and  is  forming  his  .views  of  religion 
not  so  much  from  what  he  hears  in  the  pulpit,  or  in  the 
Sabbath-school,  as  from  the  temper  which  you  evince 
from  one  day  to  another.  In  these  fields — humble  though 
they  may  seem,  and  little  as  they  may  appear  to  furnish 
a  theatre  for  the  display  of  eminent  virtues — your  useful- 
ness lies.  There,  with  the  "  gentleness"  that  was  in  Christ 
you  cannot  but  be  useful ;  and  exhibiting  such  a  spirit 
you  will  not  live  in  vain. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  also,  that  all  usefulness  may  be 
prevented  by  an  unkind,  a  sour,  a  crabbed  temper  of 
mind.  A  spirit  of  constant  fault-finding;  a  harsh-judg- 
ing temper  ;  a  constant  irritability  ;  little  inequalities  and 
perversenesses  in  the  look,  and  air,  and  manner  of  a  wife, 
whose  brow  is  cloudy  and  dissatisfied  her  husband  cannot 
tell  why  ;  or  of  a  husband  chafed,  and  fretted,  and  morose 
when  he  returns  home  from  his  daily  toil,  and  who  is 
satisfied  with  nothing,  will  more  than  neutralize  all  the 
good  you  can  do,  and  render  your  life  any  thing  but  a 
blessing.  Some  come  into  the  church  cursed  by  the  fall 
with  such  a  crabbedness  of  temper.  Some  have  an  un- 
manageable and  perverse  nervous  temperament.  Some 
are  proud,  and  envious,  and  disappointed,  and  ambitious, 
and  all  these  things  are  constantly  breaking  out  in  their 
professedly  religious  life  ;  and  even  amidst  much  that  is 
excellent,  these  passions  are  so  constantly  showing  them- 
selves that  no  one  can  tell  whether  there  is  at  heart  an}?- 
true  religion.  Now  you  may  give  money  for  benevolent 
objects,  but  it  will  not  prevent  the  injury  which  will  be 
done  by  such  an  unhappy  temperament.    You  may  build 


264  PRACTICAL    SERMONS 

churches,  and  found  schools  and  asykims ;  you  may 
have  "  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand  all  myste- 
ries, and  all  knowledge  ;  and  you  may  bestow  all  your 
goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  give  your  body  to  be  burned," 
and  all  will  not  answer  the  purpose.  It  will  all  be  like 
"  sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal."  Nothing  will  be 
a  compensation  for  that  "  love  which  sufiers  long  and  is 
KIND  : — that  love  which  envieth  not,  which  is  not  soon 
provoked,  which  thinketh  no  evil,  which  beareth  all 
things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  cndureth  all 
things,  and  which  never  faileth." 

(3.)  And  finally,  this  virtue  is  commended  to  us  by  the 
example  of  the  Master — the  Lord  Jesus.  ''  1  beseech 
3^ou,"  says  Paul,  "  by  the  meekness  and  gentleness  of 
Christ."  II.  Cor.  x.  1.  What  an  expression!  The 
gentleness  of  Christ  !  How  much  is  there  in  that 
short  sentence !  How  much  to  admire ;  how  much 
to  imitate  !  Christ  performed  great  deeds — such  as  no 
other  one  ever  did  ;  but  not  that  we  should  imitate  them. 
He  spake  to  the  tempest,  and  stilled  the  rolling  billows — 
but  not  that  we  should  lift  up  our  voices  when  the  wind 
blows,  and  the  thunders  roll,  and  the  waves  are  piled 
mountain  high,  and  attempt  to  hush  them  to  peace.  He 
stood  by  the  grave  and  spake,  and  the  dead  man  left  his 
tomb,  and  came  forth  to  life — but  not  that  we  should  place 
ourselves  by  the  graves  of  the  dead  and  attempt  to  restore 
them  to  life.  He  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  and  taught 
the  lame  man  to  leap  as  an  hart,  and  the  tongue  of  the 
dumb  to  sing — but  not  that  we  should  imitate  him  in  this, 
or  attempt  by  miracle  to  give  vigor  to  the  feeble,  or  health 
to  the  diseased.  But  Christ  was  meek  and  gentle,  that 
we  iniglit  be  so  too.  Christ  was  benignant  and  kind,  that 
we  might  be  too.  Christ  patiently  bore  reviling  that  we 
might  do  it  also  ;  he  was  not  irritable,  and  uncharitable, 
and  fretful,  and  envious,  and  revengeful— and  in  all 
these  we  may  imitate  him.  His  was  a  life  of  benevo- 
lence, diffusive  like  the  light  of  a  morning  without 
clouds ;  a  life  undisturbed  by  conflicting  emotions ;  un- 
broken by  a  harsh  and  dissatisfied  temper  ;  kind  when 
others  were  unkind ;  gentle  when  the  storms  of  furious 
passions  raged  in  their  bosoms ;  and  tranquil  and  serene 


THE    BLESSINGS    OF    A    BENIGNANT    SPIRIT.  265 

while  all  nroiind  him  were  distracted  by  anger,  and  am- 
bition, and  envy,  and  revenge.  To  us  may  the  same 
spirit  be  given ;  and  while  the  world  aronnd  us  is  agi- 
tated with  passion,  and  pride,  and  wrath,  in  our  hearts 
may  there  reign  evermore  "the  gentleness  of  Christ." 
Amen. 


23 


SERMON  XVIII. 

SECRET    PRAYER. 

Matth.  vi.  6.  But  thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet,  and 
when  thou  hast  shut  thy  door,  pray  to  thy  Father  which  is  in  secret ;  and 
thy  Father,  which  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly. 

The  sense  of  this  text  is  plain.  The  vSaviour  is  re- 
proving the  ostentation  and  pride  of  hypocrites  for  the 
public  manner  in  which  they  offered  their  prayers.  In 
contradistinction  from  them  he  directs  liis  disciples  to  go 
into  a  place  where  they  Avould  be  alone  wnth  God ;  where 
no  eye  could  see  them  but  his  eye,  and  no  ear  could  hear 
their  voice  but  his  ear,  and  there  to  pray  to  him  who 
dwells  in  a  world  unseen  by  mortals.  The  subject,  there- 
fore, which  is  now  before  us  is,  secret  prayer.  In  con- 
sidering it,  I  shall  direct  your  thoughts  to  the  duty;  to  the 
proper  times  and  modes  of  performing  it ;  and  to  the 
rewards  or  advantage  of  it. 

1.  I  begin  with  the  duty  of  secret  prayer.  You  will 
observe  the  peculiar  manner  in  which  this  is  mentioned 
in  the  text.  It  is  apparent  that  the  Redeemer  meant  to 
be  understood  as  expressing  his  conviction  that  prayer 
should  be  offered  to  God.  Yet  he  rather  assumes  as  a 
matter  of  course  that  his  followers  would  pray,  than  posi- 
tively commands  it ;  and  he  gives  no  direction  as  to  the 
frequency  with  which  the  duty  is  to  be  performed.  It 
is  thus  much  unlike  the  usual  form  of  precepts  in  the 
Bible,  and  wholly  unlike  the  rules  which  men  would 
have  prescribed.  Mohammed  specified  the  number  of 
times  and  the  exact  hours  when  his  folloAvers  should 
pray;  and  perhaps  some  would  be  disposed  to  ask 
whether  the  apparently  lax  and  indefinite  manner  in 
which  the  Saviour  has  left  the  subject,  would  not  be  at- 
tended with  the  consequence  that  his  followers  would 
seldom  pray,  or  would  perform  the  duty  in  a  most  hurried 
and  heedless  manner.  Where  it  was  so  easy  to  command 

266 


SECRET    PRAYER.  267 

and  to  specify,  was  it  the  intention  of  ihe  Saviour  to  leave 
it  designedly  indefinite  ?  If  so,  what  object  did  he  propose 
to  secure  by  this  ?  These  circumstances  make  it  the  more 
important  to  ascertain  exactly  in  what  way  the  duty  is 
enjoined  in  the  Bible.  A  few  remarks  will  explain  this 
part  of  our  subject. 

(1.)  The  text  may  be  regarded  as  having  all  the  form 
of  a  command.  The  frequency  with  which  prayer  is  to 
be  offered  is  indeed  not  specified,  but  the  duly  of  entering 
into  the  closet,  and  praying  in  secret  to  God,  is  enjoined; 
and  enjoined  on  the  supposition  that  this  would  be  done. 
The  same  thing  is  implied  in  James  v.  13:  ^^  Is  any 
afflicted  among  you?  let  him  pray."  Let  him  present 
his  individual  wants  and  desires  to  God;  let  him  ofter  his 
secret  and  solitary  supplications  to  him  who  hears  prayer. 
So  in  Phil.  iv.  G  :"  In  every  thing  by  prayer  and  suppli- 
cation with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be  made 
known  to  God.''  Men  have  individual  wants,  and 
troubles,  and  temptations.  They  have  feelings  which 
others  cannot  know,  and  which  it  is  not  desirable  they 
should  know,  and  which,  therefore,  are  to  be  brought 
before  God  only  in  secret  prayer.  So  in  Eph.  vi.  IS. 
"  Praying  always  with  all  prayer  and  supplication  in  the 
spirit ;'' — that  is,  with  all  the  usual  modes  of  prayer,  not 
limiting  your  supplications  to  the  sanctuary  and  the 
family,  but  using  all  the  ways  of  prayer  in  which  you 
may  present  your  wants  before  God. 

(2.)  But  it  is  more  by  example  than  by  express  precept 
that  the  dnty  is  enforced  in  the  Scriptures;  and  that  ex- 
ample was  exhibited  by  all  the  holy  men  who  walked 
with  God  on  the  earth.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  refer  you 
to  Jacob  in  his  lonely  wrestling  with  the  angel  of  the 
covenant  when  on  his  way  to  a  distant  land  ;  to  Abraham 
who  stood  alone  before  the  Lord  and  prayed  for  Sodom, 
(Gen.  xviii.  22) ;  to  David  who  said,  "  Evening  and  morn- 
ing, and  noon  will  I  pray  and  cry  aloud  ;  and  he  shall  hear 
my  voice"  (Ps.  Iv.  17);  to  the  author  of  the  cxixth 
Psalm,  who  said,  "seven  times  a  day  do  I  praise  thee; 
because  of  thy  righteous  judgments"  (ver.  1 64) ;  to  Daniel 
who  ''  kneeled  upon  his  knees  three  times  a  day  and 
prayed,  and  gave  thanks  before  his  God,"  (Dan.  vi.  10), 
and  to  the  example  of  the  Redeemer  himself.     With  the 


26S  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Saviour's  habits  on  this  subject  we  are  not  indeed  made 
fully  acquainted.  He  himself  enjoined  secrecy  in  prayer, 
and  the  whole  record  of  his  life  shows  that  he  sought  it ; 
and  all  that  we  can  expect  is  some  general  intimation, 
showing  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  secret  prayer.  We 
have  just  the  record  which  we  should  anticipate.  We  are 
told,  on  one  occasion,  that  "  in  the  morning,  rising  up  a 
great  while  before  day,  he  went  out,  and  departed  into  a 
solitary  place  and  there  prayed,"  Mark  i.  35.  On 
another  occasion  we  are  told,  that  *^when  he  had  sent 
the  multitude  away,  he  went  up  into  a  mountain  apart  to 
pray ;  and  when  the  even  was  come  he  was  there  alone.'' 
Matth.  xiv.  23.  On  another  occasion  we  are  told,  "that 
he  went  out  into  a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued  all 
night  in  prayer  to  God."  Luke  vi.  12.'  His  prayer  also 
in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane  was  private,  for  he  was 
withdrawn  from  his  disciples  before  he  kneeled  down  to 
pray  (Luke  xxii.  41)  ;  and  the  whole  narrative,  espe- 
cially in  regard  to  the  closing  scenes  of  his  life,  shows 
that  he  was  accustomed  to  retire  from  the  busy  city  to 
some  secluded  part  of  the  Mount  of  Olives  that  he  might 
be  alone  with  God. 

Now  in  regard  to  the  Saviour's  habits,  we  may  remark 
that  secret  prayer  with  him  was  attended  with  all  the 
difficulties  which  can  ever  exist  in  its  performance.  His 
professed  followers  often  excuse  themselves  for  neglecting 
it  because  they  are  away  from  home,  and  have  no  con- 
venient place  for  retirement.  Yet  no  small  part  of  the 
Saviour's  life  was  spent  in  travelling  from  place  to  place  ; 
and  he  had  no  home.  We  excuse  ourselves  because  we 
find  it  diificult  to  retire  from  the  gaze  of  man.  But  the 
Saviour  was  surrounded  by  multitudes  v/ho  thronged  his 
path ;  and  he  retired  to  the  mountain  that  he  might  be. 
alone  with  God.  We  excuse  ourselves  because  we  are 
oppressed  with  business  and  care,  and  because  we  have 
no  time  to  pray.  Yet  the  Saviour,  with  the  burden  of 
redeeming  the  world  upon  him,  felt  so  much  the  impor- 
tance of  secret  prayer  that  he  rose  up  a  great  while  before 
day  that  he  might  secure  time  for  secret  devotion.  He 
was  in  a  busy  city ;  he  was  as  incessantly  occupied  as  we 
can  be  ;  he  went  from  place  to  place  as  we  often  do,  but 
he  forgot  not  the  duty  of  secret  devotion,  and  he  made  it 


SECRET    PRATER.  269 

a  matter  oi  plan  and  study  and  self-denial  that  he  might 
be  alone  with  God.  Fellow  professor  !  He  had  not  a 
dwelling  like  yours  where  at  any  time  he  might  secure  a 
place  of  retirement  for  prayer.  Amidst  all  the  difficulties 
Avhich  can  encircle  our  path  he  prayed  in  secret ;  and  he 
left  a  standing  rebuke  of  the  idle  and  the  slumbering  by 
his  rising  a  great  while  before  day  for  prayer.  Let  me 
ask  of  his  followers,  whether  it  would  not  be  as  easy  for 
them  to  anticipate  the  dawning  of  the  morning  to  pray 
as  it  was  for  their  self-denying  Saviour  ?  Should  they 
urge  as  an  excuse  for  neglecting  this  duty  that  they  have 
no  time  to  pray  when  they  spend  the  time  which  the 
Saviour  sought  for  prayer  in  needless  sleep  ?  When  you 
feel  disposed  to  urge  this,  let  me  entreat  you  to  call  to 
mind  the  image  of  the  Son  of  God  before  the  morning 
had  shed  a  ray  of  light  in  the  east,  treading  his  lonely 
way  to  the  mountain-side,  that  he  might  be  alone  with 
Him  who  hears  prayer.  Your  redemption  was  sought 
by  one  who  loved  the  devotions  of  the  morning,  and  who 
denied  himself  of  repose  that  you  might  be  saved. 

(3.)  The  duty  of  secret  prayer  is  enforced  by  the  fact 
that  we  have  wants  which  can  be  presented  before  God 
in  no  other  way.  Our  prayers  in  the  sanctuary  must 
be,  to  a  great  extent,  such  as  will  meet  the  common 
wants  of  the  entire  congregation  ;  our  prayers  in  the 
family,  though  not  as  general,  yet  will  scarce  allow  a  re- 
ference to  the  circumstances  of  individuals.  We  all  have 
easily  besetting  sins;  we  have  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  cannot  with  propriety  be  made  known  to  others  ; 
we  have  temptations  which  are  peculiar  to  ourselves; 
and  we  have  sadnesses,  and  sorrows,  and  fears,  and  trials 
of  which  others  do  not  know,  and  which  cannot  be  met 
by  public  prayer.  A  true  Christian,  moreover,  will  feel 
the  necessity  of  more  frequent  communion  with  God  than 
he  can  enjoy  either  in  the  family,  the  prayer-meeting,  or 
the  sanctuary.  He  will  have  desires  and  feelings  which 
can  be  gratified  only  by  prayer ;  and  he  will  feel  his  need 
of  grace  and  strength  that  can  be  imparted  only  by  direct 
communion  with  God. 

Yet  I  admit  here,  that  the  true  question  is  rather  one 
of  privilege  than  of  stern  and  iron-handed  duty.     The 

23* 


270  PRACTICAL    SEHMONS. 

enquiry  is  not  so  much  whetlicr  I  ought,  as  wlictlicr  I 
may  pray.  I  am  a  lost  sinner;  a  tem})tc(l,  and  a  dying 
man.  I  have  a  heart  that  is  hy  natnre  tiill  of  evil.  I  am  in 
a  world  wliere  I  am  every  moment  liahle  to  go  astray  ; 
and  the  question  is,  whetlier  I  shall  meet  these  tempta- 
tions alone  and  single-handed,  or  whether  I  may  go  to 
a  God  of  infinite  power  and  grace  and  implore  his  aid  ? 
I  am  called  to  the  discharge  of  great  and  arduous  duties ; 
and  may  I  go  to  God  and  ask  him  to  shine  upon  my  un- 
derstanding and  my  heartland  to  furnish  facilities  for  the 
discharge  of  those  duties  by  tlie  favoring  events  of  liis 
Providence  ?  I  am  ahout  to  die,  and  my  whole  nature 
shrinks  back  at  the  word  death.  Shall  I  o^o  to  meet  the 
king  of  terrors  armed  by  the  little  philosophy  which  I 
can  assume  ;  and  after  all  with  no  security  that  the  dark 
valley  will  not  be  to  me  full  of  horrors,  or  may  I  now  in 
the  days  of  my  health  and  strengtli  go  before  God 
and  ask  him  to  prepare  me  for  that  dread  hour,  and 
secure  his  presence  when  I  come  to  die  ?  These  are  the 
questions  to  be  asked  on  the  subject  of  secret  prayer;  and 
if  man  has  any  right  feelings,  tlie  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions cannot  be  diiiicult. 

(4.)  It  is  observable  that  the  injunction  on  the  subject 
of  secret  prayer  does  not  specify  the  titncs  when  we  are 
to  pray.  It  docs  not  say  how  often,  nor  at  what  time  of 
the  day,  it  is  to  be  done.  In  this  respect  there  is  a  strong 
resemblance  between  this  command  and  tliat  enjoining 
the  observance  of  the  Lord's  supper.  Both  are  to  be 
voluntary  services  ;  and  in  regard  to  both,  the  time  when 
the  duty  is  to  be  performed  is  left  to  ourselves.  This  was 
evidently  not  without  design  ;  and  the  Saviour  meant  to 
accomplish  what  coukl  not  be  accomplished  had  he  spe- 
cified the  times  when  the  duty  was  to  be  performed,  or 
the  length  of  the  service.  Mohammed  undertook  to 
regulate  this  matter.  lie  enjoined  prayer  a  certain 
number  of  times  each  day,  and  the  consequence  is  a 
formal,  and  cold,  and  heartless,  and  ostentatious  pros- 
tration of  the  body  all  over  the  regions  Avhere  the  re- 
hgion  of  Islam  has  spread.  Christ  meant  that  his  religion 
should  be  voluntary.  It  was  to  be  the  religion  of  the 
heart.  It  was  to  be  sufiiciently  powerful  to  secure  the 
prpper  observance   of  his  laws  without  needless  par- 


RECJIET   riiArER.  271 

ticiilarity.  It  was  designed  to  be  sudi  that  a  test  might 
be  luniished  daily  of  our  love  lo  him,  and  our  readiness 
to  obey  hiui.  It  is  hke  the  expressions  of  confidence  and 
atteclion  which  we  expect  in  our  children.  We  do  not 
specify  how  often  they  sliall  come  and  ask  for  favors,  or 
how  often  they  shaU  be  admitted  to  our  society  ; — we 
cherish  such  a  feeling,  and  expect  from  them  such  confi- 
dence in  us,  that  they  may  come  to  us  at  any  and  at  all 
times  in  their  perplexities;  and  we  rejoice  tar  more  in 
the  voluntary  expressions  of  their  confidence  in  us  tlian 
we  could  in  any  constrained  and  prescribed  service. 
Our  prayers  to  God  are  to  be  voluntary.  Wliether  they 
are  more  or  less  frequent,  will  be  determined  by  the 
strength  or  feebleness  of  our  religion ;  and  there  is  not 
to  ourselves  a  better  test  of  our  attachment  to  God  than 
the  voluntary  and  freciuent  tribute  which  we  pay  to  liim 
in  our  secret  devotions.  Christianity  is  freedom — the  true 
freedom.  In  its  duties  we  are  not  to  l)e  fettered  by  set 
rules  and  formal  services,  but  are  to  follow  the  prompt- 
ings of  a  renovated  mind,  and  to  yield  a  service  that  is 
to  be  a  service  of  love.  Yet  there  are  some  circumstances 
determined  by  the  principles  laid  down  in  the  Bible,  and 
by  experience,  which  may  lead  us  in  regard  to  the  proper 
times  and  modes  of  performing  this  duty.  They  are  such 
rules  as  would  be  desired  by  those  anxious  to  know  how 
they  may  most  profital)ly  engage  in  secret  prayer;  and 
as  I  wish  to  be  us.;ful  to  those  who  are  desirous  of  doing 
their  duty,  I  sliall  [)roceed  to  consider  these  rules.  This 
was  my. 

II.  Second  object.  In  the  text  but  a  single  circum- 
stance is  mentioned.  It  is,  that  we  are  to  go  into  our 
closet,  and  that  we  are  to  be  alone,  or  to  secure  secresy. 
In  illustrating  this,  I  would  call  your  attention  to  a  few 
points  suggested  by  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  or  by 
what  is  obviously  proper. 

(1.)  Tliere  should,  if  possible,  be  a  place  to  which  we 
may  retire  where  we  may  be  alone  with  God.  It  was  a 
custom  among  the  Jews  to  prepare  such  a  j)lacc  in  all 
their  dwellings  as  an  essential  part  of  the  arrangement 
of  a  house.  There  was  with  them,  perhaps,  somewhat  of 
ostentation  in  this,  but  the  principle  was  a  good  one ;  and 
he  wiio  builds  a  house  should  secure  some  room  where  he 


272  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

may  retire  alike  from  his  family  and  from  the  world,  and 
be  alone  with  God.  There  are  times  in  the  lives  of 
all  men  when  they  wish  to  be  alone ;  there  should  be 
times  every  day  wiien  we  should  withdraw  wholly  from 
the  world ;  and  unless  such  a  place  of  retirement  can  be 
secured,  I  see  not  that  there  can  be  the  appropriate  per- 
formance of  this  duty  of  secret  prayer.  To  breathe  forth 
a  short  and  silent  petition  when  lying  in  your  bed,  does 
not  meet  the  case  supposed  by  the  Saviour,  when  we  are 
to  enter  into  the  closet,  and  shut  the  door,  and  pray. 
With  the  Redeemer,  a  grove,  a  mountain,  a  garden,  con- 
stituted such  a  place.  Rather  than  forego  it,  he  went 
before  day  to  the  mountain-side  ;  he  walked  at  deep  night 
to  the  grove ;  he  left  the  city,  and  sought  out  a  garden 
where  he  might  be  alone.  And  we  may  as  well  do  it  as 
he.  There  need  be  no  difficulty  on  tliis  point.  The  love 
of  secret  prayer  would  create  such  places  in  abundance ; 
and  no  one  need  pass  a  single  day  without  securing  re- 
tirement to  pray  to  God.  If  there  be  not  such  a  place,  it 
is  not  difficult  to  foresee  what  v/ill  be  the  effect.  There 
will  be  no  regular  secret  prayer;  as  I  fear  there  is  not  by 
many  who  are  members  of  the  Christian  church. 

(2.)  There  should  be  set  times  for  secret  devotion.  It 
is  true  that  the  Saviour  did  not  prescribe  such  times,  but 
that  does  not  make  it  improper  that  we  should  form  rules 
by  which  to  regulate  our  personal  habits  in  this  matter. 
When  the  times  shall  be  ;  how  numerous  ;  or  at  what 
periods  of  the  day,  must  be  left,  of  course,  to  each  indi- 
vidual. No  one  can  give  laws  in  religion  where  Christ 
has  given  none ;  and  the  whole  arrangement  must  be  one 
that  is  voluntary  on  our  part.  The  reasons  why  there 
should  be  set  times  for  secret  devotion  are  almost  too  ob- 
vious to  be  specified.  The  world  crowds  hard  upon  us, 
and  unless  there  is  a  time  sacred  to  God  in  our  estima- 
tion, it  will  all  be  stolen  away  by  the  cares  of  this  life. 
We  defer  it,  intending  to  secure  time  for  the  duty,  but 
company,  and  care,  and  pleasure,  and  light-reading,  steal 
away  the  hours,  and  the  day  glides  on,  and  this  duty  is 
forgotten.  Of  all  things,  our  religious  duties  are  most 
easily  crowded  out  of  their  place ;  and  in  not  a  few  in- 
stances, it  is  to  be  feared,  the  duty  of  secret  prayer  is  de- 
ferred from  day  to  day,  until  the  Sabbath  is  almost  the 


SECRET    PRAYER.  273 

only  period  when  there  is  even  the  form  of  secret  devo- 
tion. If  only  on  that  day,  I  may  remark  also,  it  will  be 
mere  form,  and  will  be  most  heartlessly  done.  He  who 
suffers  the  week  to  be  passed  without  secret  devotion, 
will  usually  not  fiiid  it  difficult  to  devote  the  Sabbath 
morning  hours  to  protracted  slumbers,  and  the  entire  day 
to  other  matters  than  secret  prayer.  He  does  not  mean 
always  so  to  live ;  but  day  crowds  on  day,  and  week  on 
week,  and  his  prayers  are  of  the  briefest  nature,  and  of 
the  most  heartless  kind. 

Some  say  they  have  no  time  for  secret  devotion.  The 
men  of  the  world  have,  no  time.  Their  hours  are  too 
much  occupied  with  the  important  business  of  making 
money,  and  of  dress,  and  pleasure,  in  the  counting- 
room,  and  in  the  gay  and  brilliant  party,  to  attend  to  such 
trifles  as  the  soul's  salvation,  and  to  preparation  for  eter- 
nity. Nothing  would  be  more  unreasonable  than  to  dis- 
turb so  important  purposes  by  asking  them  to  devote 
their  time  to  prayer.  But  I  marvel  that  a  professor  of 
the  religion  of  Christ  should  ever  make  this  remark.  For 
what  do  we  live  ?  Whose  is  our  time  ?  Who  gave  it  to 
us  ?  To  what  have  we  devoted  our  lives  ?  What  is 
the  purpose  for  which  we  have  a  being  ?  What  is  to  be 
our  employment  for  eternity  ?  0,  professing  Christian, 
the  Saviour  would  have  taken  some  portion  of  that  time 
which  you  now  spend  in  needless  sleep,  for  secret  prayer. 
He  would  have  anticipated  the  dawning  of  the  morn- 
ing, rather  than  forego  this  privilege.  He  would  have 
taken  some  of  that  time  which  you  spend  in  dress, 
or  in  business,  or  in  plans  pertaining  to  this  life,  rather 
than  neglect  this  duty.  I  add  that  the  Saviour  would 
have  taken  some  of  those  moments  which  you  spend  in 
conversation  of  no  profit,  rather  than  forego  the  privilege 
of  secret  prayer.  Nor  think  that  this  v\rould  be  lost  time. 
"  Since  I  began,"  said  Dr.  Payson  when  a  student,  "  to 
beg  God's  blessing  on  my  studies,  I  have  done  more  in 
one  week  than  in  the  whole  year  before."  This  accords, 
I  apprehend,  with  the  experience  of  all  Christians.  He 
who  wishes  for  a  clear  head  in  pursuing  business  or  study ; 
for  an  understanding  quick  to  perceive  truth,  and  a  me- 
mory attentive  to  retain  it ;  for  ability  to  spend  his  time 
profitably — not  wasting  his  energies  in  fruitless  pursuits, 


274  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

nor  exhausting  them  m  profitless  speculations,  will  not  ^ 
find  the  time  lost  that  is  spent  in  prayer  to  that  God  who 
made  the  understanding,  and  who  can  give  it  just  views 
of  the  proper  proportion  and  value  of  things.  He  who 
wishes  in  business  or  in  study  for  a  heart  justly  balanced 
and  pure,  estimating  objects  according  to  their  real  value, 
superior  to  temptation  and  allurement,  will  not  find  his 
time  lost  that  is  spent  in  seeking  that  a  heavenly  influ- 
ence may  reign  in  that  heart,  and  that  God  would  pre- 
side over  and  direct  all  its  feelings. 

(3.)  In  regard  to  the  frequency  of  our  secret  devotions, 
without  attempting  to  give  rules  where  Christ  has  given 
none,  I  would  observe  that  the  following  are  among  the 
seasons  when  a  true  Christian,  desiring  to  maintain  a 
steady  walk  with  God,  and  to  become  as  eminent  in  piety 
as  possible,  will  regard  it  as  a  privilege  to  pray. 

[a)  In  the  morning — the  early  morning  hour.  So  the 
Psalmist  prayed  :  "  I  prevented,"  that  is,  I  anticipated 
"  the  dawning  of  the  morning,  and  cried ;  I  hoped  in  thy 
word."  Ps.  cxix.  147.  So  the  Saviour  prayed — rising 
a  great  while  before  day.  What  more  appropriate  season 
for  prayer?  When  just  rising  from  a  bed  of  repose,  hav- 
ing been  guarded  through  the  silent  watches  of  night, 
what  more  natural  and  appropriate  than  to  go  before  God 
and  render  him  thanks  that  the  sleep  has  not  been  the  sleep 
of  death?  When  the  light  again  shines  upon  a  darkened 
world,  what  more  appropriate  than  to  go  to  the  Great 
Source  of  light,  and  ask  that  he  will  shine  upon  our  path  ? 
When  we  enter  upon  the  duties,  the  trials,  the  toils  of  a 
new  day,  not  knowing  what  shall  befall  us,  what  more 
proper  than  to  commend  ourselves  to  him  who  can  guide 
our  feet,  and  lead  us  in  the  way  in  which  we  should  go  ? 
The  sun  which  dawns  upon  you  in  the  new  day,  may  be 
the  last  that  will  ever  rise  to  your  eyes ;  the  journey 
which  you  then  enter  upon  may  be  the  closing  day's 
journey  of  your  life  ;  and  as  that  sun  sinks  in  the  west, 
your  light  may  have  gone  out  forever.  How  can  a 
Christian  answer  it  to  his  conscience  and  to  God,  to  begin 
the  day  and  offering  no  thanksgiving,  and  imploring  no 
guidance  ?  He  will  find  it  impossible,  I  believe,  to  lead  a 
life  of  very  devoted  piety,  who  does  not  begin  each  day 
with  God  J  and  every  man  will  find  the  peace,  the  purity, 


SECRET    PRAYER.  275 

the  usefulness,  and  the  comforts  of  each  day  to  be  deter- 
mmed  with  ahnost  unerring  accuracy  by  the  nature  of 
his  early  communion  with  God. 

{b)  Not  less  appropriate  is  secret  prayer  in  the  evening. 
Our  preservation  through  the  day  demands  thanks.  The 
possibility  that  we  have  sinned,  even  where  we  have  aim- 
ed to  do  our  duty,  (compare  Job  i.  5 ;)  the  consciousness 
of  our  infirmity  and  error,  makes  it  proper  that  we  should 
seek  pardoning  mercy.  About  again  to  be  locked  in  the 
embrace  of  sleep,  "the  kinsman  of  death  ;"  to  close  our 
eyes  with  no  assurance  that  they  will  be  opened  again 
till  they  are  opened  on  the  burning  throne  of  God,  what 
can  be  more  appropriate  than  to  commend  ourselves 
to  the  fatherly  care  of  Him  "who  never  slumbers  nor 
sleeps?"  And  how  will  that  Christian  answer  it  to  con- 
science and  to  God  who  sleeps  and  wakes;  who  rises 
and  retires  to  rest;  who  walks  in  the  light  of  God's  sun, 
and  who  is  guarded  by  him  in  the  shadows  of  his  niglit, 
without  any  recognition  of  his  hand  ? 

(c)  Equally  proper  is  it  to  pray  in  time  of  perplexity 
and  embarrassment.  We  all  have  secret  troubles.  Our 
way  is  hedged  up.  Our  intellect  is  clouded,  and  our  views 
of  truth  and  duty  are  obscure.  Deepening  darkness  settles 
on  our  path,  and  we  know  not  what  to  do.  Many  such 
times  will  occur  in  each  man's  life  ;  and  they  are  appointed, 
among  other  reasons,  to  see  whether  we  will  then  look  to 
God.  In  the  most  dark  and  distressing  season  of  the 
American  revolution,  the  commander-in-chief  of  our 
armies  was  observed  to  retire  each  day  to  a  grove  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  camp.  It  was  at  the  Valley  Forge.  A 
series  of  disasters  had  disheartened  the  army,  and  the 
sky  was  overcast  with  a  deep  cloud,  and  distress  and 
anxiety  pervaded  the  nation.  The  army  was  in  want  of 
the  comforts  and  almost  of  the  indispensable  necessaries 
of  life,  and  disaffection  was  spreading  in  the  camp. 
Curiosity  prompted  an  individual  to  follow  the  comman- 
der-in-chief, and  to  observe  him.  The  father  of  his  coun- 
try was  seen  on  his  knees,  supplicating  the  God  of  hosts 
in  secret  prayer.  With  an  anxious  and  a  burdened  mind ; 
a  mind  conscious  of  its  need  of  heavenly  support  and 
devotion,  he  went  and  rolled  these  mighty  burdens  upon 


276  PRACTTCAL    SERMONS. 

tlie  arm  of  Jehovah.  Who  can  tell  how  much  the  liberty 
of  this  nation  is  owing  to  the  answer  to  the  secret  prayers 
of  Washington  at  the  Valley  Forge  ?  Or  rather,  who  can 
doubt  that  that  spot  where  he  plead  with  God  was  a 
place  as  closely  connected  with  American  freedom  as  the 
Hall  of  Independejice?  So  where  difficulties  cluster  around, 
us,  and  we  are  perplexed  and  embarrassed,  shall  we  be 
ashamed  to  go  and  pour  out  onr  hearts  before  God  ?  An 
ancient  monarch,  a  distinguished  warrior,  and  a  most 
beautiful  poet,  as  well  as  an  eminently  holy  man,  once 
used  this  language.  "  I  sought  the  Lord,  and  he  heard 
me,  and  delivered  me  from  all  my  fears.  The  angel  of 
the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that  fear  him, 
and  delivereth  them.  The  righteous  cry,  and  the  Lord 
heareth,  and  delivereth  them  out  of  all  their  troubles.'' 
Ps.  xxxiv.  4.  7.  17.  When  such  men  have  felt  it  a  privi- 
lege to  pray,  shall  we  regard  it  as  humiliating  for  us  ? 

[d.)  We  should  pray  when  we  are  beset  with  strong 
temptations.  Who  has  not  had  such  temptations,  when 
sin  seemed  to  have  armed  itself  with  all  its  power,  and 
wlien  it  made  an  onset  on  his  piety  which  he  felt  unable 
to  resist  ?  Then  Ave  should  pray.  It  was  at  such  a 
period  that  the  Saviour  prayed  in  the  garden  of  Geth- 
seniane  ;  and  he  who  is  thus  beset  by  the  tempter  should 
go  and  plead  with  God. 

(e.)  We  should  pray  when  the  Holy  Spirit  prompts  us 
to  pray.  I  mean  this.  There  are  times  in  the  life  of  a 
pious  man  when  he  desires  communion  with  God.  He 
ieels  just  like  praying.  His  mind  and  heart  can  be  satis- 
fied with  nothing  else.  Prayer  to  him  then  is  just  as  con- 
genial as  conversation  with  a  beloved  friend  wlien  his 
heart  glows  with  love ;  as  the  society  of  father,  mother, 
sister,  wife  or  child  is  when  the  heart  is  full  of  attach- 
ment ;  as  strains  of  sweet  music  are  to  the  ear  best  at- 
tuned, and  to  the  soul  most  filled  with  the  love  of  har- 
mony ;  as  an  exquisite  poem  is  to  a  heart  most  enamoured 
with  the  Muses;  as  the  most  copious  draughts  from  the 
fountains  of  Helicon  are  to  the  lover  of  classic  scenes ; 
nay,  as  the  most  delicious  banquet  to  the  hungry.  It  is 
then  the  element  of  being ;  the  breath ;  the  vital  air. 
Such  times  there  are  in  the  life  of  every  Christian ;  and 
such  times  should  not  be  suffered  to  pass  by  unimproved. 


SECRET    PRAYER.  277 

They  are  the  spring-times  of  our  piety ;  favoring  gales 
from  heaven  designed  to  waft  us  onward  to  a  world  of 
glory.  He  is  the  most  eminent  Christian  who  is  most 
favored  with  such  strong  desires  urging  him  to  prayer. 
The  heart  then  is  full.  The  sun  of  glory  shines  with 
unusual  splendor.  No  cloud  intervenes.  The  Christian 
rises  from  the  earth,  and  pants  for  glory.  Nothing  then 
will  satisfy  the  mind  but  communion  with  God ;  and  then 
we  should  pray.  Christian,  have  you  never  felt  such 
times,  or  is  all  this  to  you  unintelligible  language  ?  Does 
it  seem  to  savor  of  enthusiasm  or  mysticism  ?  Has 
your  mind  never  been  pensive ;  have  you  never  seen 
a  deepening  gloom  coming  over  the  world  ;  have  you 
never  felt  a  growing  distaste  for  the  things  of  this  life  and 
the  usual  objects  of  pursuit ;  have  you  never  felt  your 
mind  unusually  pressed  down  with  the  condition  of  your 
unconverted  relatives,  your  children,  your  partners  hi  life, 
with  the  state  of  the  church,  and  with  the  danger  of 
perishing  sinners?  These  were  times  when  the  Spirit  of 
God  prompted  you  to  pray.  Such  feelings  pervadhig  a 
church  constitute  in  fact  the  beginning  of  a  revival  of 
religion.  Such  feelings  resisted  are  the  resistance  of  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  and  such  resistance,  when  it  arises  from  the 
love  of  vanity,  of  gain,  and  of  fashion  causes  that  Spirit 
to  depart,  and  leaves  the  church  to  the  chilly  shades  of 
spiritual  night. 

HI.  I  proposed  in  the  third  place  to  show  what  are  the 
rewards  and  advantages  of  secret  prayer.  "And  thy 
Father  who  seeth  in  secret  shall  reward  thee  openly.''  I 
will  just  suggest  a  thought  or  two,  and  then  close. 

I  might  observe  that  the  habit  of  secret  prayer  fur- 
nishes to  ourselves  the  best  test  of  piety.  There  is  the 
least  temptation  to  its  performance  from  improper  motives 
of  all  the  duties  of  religion.  A  man  may  preach  merely 
to  be  seen  of  men ;  for  the  same  reason  he  may  give 
largely  to  objects  of  benevolence ;  and  for  the  same 
reason  he  may  be  abundant,  and  loud,  and  long  in  public 
prayer.  Such  men  were  the  Pharisees.  But  no  such 
motive  can  reign  in  the  closet.  And  though,  with  hearts 
such  as  ours  are,  no  one  can  doubt  that  there  may  be  im- 
proper motives  even  there,  yet  no  where  else  is  there  so 

24 


278  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

little  danger  of  being  influenced  by  improper  motives  as 
in  that  duty. 

But  what  is  meant  by  the  "  open  reward"  referred  to 
by  the  Saviour  ?  Not  wealth  ;  not  honor  ;  not  a  gorgeous 
retinue  of  servants;  not  a  splendid  equipage  ;  not  crowns 
and  sceptres.  These  are  not  the  rewards  of  piety.  Per- 
haps lie  refers  to  such  things  as  the  following.  That 
humble  piety  which  you  see  in  some  very  obscure  Chris- 
tian with  half  your  advantages,  with  little  of  your  learn- 
ing, and  with  none  of  your  wealth.  You  know  not  how  to 
account  for  it  that  he  enjoys  and  manifests  so  much  more 
religion  than  you  are  able  to  do.  It  is  the  "  open  reward" 
of  much  secret  prayer. — That  power  which  you  see  others 
have  to  gain  a  victory  over  the  world ;  to  resist  its  bad 
influences,  and  to  subdue  their  own  passions.  You  won- 
der how  they  do  it,  and  wonder  why  such  a  victory  is  not 
yours.  It  is  the  *•  open  reward"  of  much  secret  prayer. — 
That  calm  and  much  subdued  temper  which  you  see  in 
others  ;  that  superiority  to  passion  and  raging  lusts  ;  that 
equability  of  mind  when  provoked  and  injured.  You 
wonder  how  other  minds  can  be  so  calm  while  you  are 
ruflled,  and  irritable,  and  excited,  and  revengeful.  Their 
calmness  and  composure  is  the  "open  reward"  of  secret 
prayer. — That  patience  which  others  evince  in  trial ;  that 
meek  and  quiet  resignation  ;  that  readiness  to  bear  many 
suflerings  and  to  bear  them  long,  and  that  holy  triumph 
on  the  bed  of  death  which  you  often  see,  is  the  "  open 
reward"  of  secret  prayer.  Your  mind  is  disturbed.  You 
dread  to  die.  You  have  no  resignation  when  you  lose  your 
friends,  euid  when  you  lie  on  a  bed  of  pain.  The  reason 
is  plain.  You  have  not  prayed  in  secret  as  you  should 
have  done,  and  there  is  to  you  no  "  open  reward"  of 
secret  prayer.  In  one  word,  that  holy,  humble,  calm, 
submissive  life  ;  that  life  of  cheerful  piety,  of  self-denial, 
and  of  practical  benevolence ;  and  that  resigned  and  peace- 
ful death  which  you  often  see  in  others,  is  the  "  open 
reward"  of  secret  prayer.  But  further  still.  In  the  great 
day,  when  light  shall  blaze  over  countless  millions  assem- 
bled before  God  revealing  all  things,  then  the  bright  crown 
of  glory  which  God  the  Father  shall  place  on  the  head 
of  the  humble  Christian,  shall  be  the  "  open  reward"  of 
secret  prayer. 


SECRET  PRAYER,  279 


REMARKS. 

1.  It  remains  only  to  ask  of  you  who  bear  the  name 
of  Christ,  whether  you  are  in  all  honesty  and  good  con- 
science obeying  the  command  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  Here, 
every  individual  must  act  and  answer  for  himself  No 
one  can  know  your  habits  on  this  subject  but  yourselves 
and  God.  Yourselves  and  God  too  are  those  most  inter- 
ested in  knowing ;  and  I  may  add  your  habits  on  this 
subject  are  known  both  to  yourselves  and  to  God.  You 
know  whether  in  all  good  conscience  you  are  hi  the  habit 
of  entering  into  your  closet  and  praying  to  your  Father 
who  is  in  secret,  and  God  knows  whether  this  is  habit- 
ually done.  0  should  his  hand  slowly  pencil  on  these 
walls  in  letters  of  living  light  the  riames  of  those  who  He 
knows  do  ;ic>/ pray,  how  many  names  of  professing  Chris- 
tians would  stand  thus  revealed  ?  My  hearer,  I  hold  it  to 
be  an  indisputable  truth  that  the  man  who  does  not  in  all 
fidelity  pray  in  secret  cannot  be  a  Christian  ;  and  further, 
that  the  best  evidence  of  your  personal  piety  is  nor  your 
attendance  on  the  sanctuary — which  in  itself  is  no  evi- 
dence;  nor  in  celebrating  the  Lord's  supper— which  in 
itself  is  no  evidence  ;  nor  in  much  alms-giving — which  in 
itself  is  no  evidence  ;  but  in  that  conscious  love  to  God 
and  to  Jesus  Christ  which  prompts  you  to  pray  to  him 
who  sees  in  secret.  I  may  ask  you  then,  whether  you 
pray  in  secret  ?  If  you  do,  I  may  ask  farther,  what  is 
the  character  of  your  pra^^ers  there  .''  Are  they  infrequent, 
short,  rapid,  hurried,  without  heart,  or  feeling,  or  care; 
are  they  set  and  formal,  hollow  and  insincere  ; — or  are  they 
the  breathings  of  a  heart  that  loves  to  pray,  and  that  can- 
not but  call  upon  God  ? 

2.  Finally,  I  would  address  one  word  to  another  inte- 
resting class  of  my  audience.  I  allude  to  those  who  were 
early  taught  to  pray,  but  who  have  now  no  "closet;" 
no  secret  place  where  they  retire ;  no  daily  communion 
with  God.  Light  returns  to  you  in  the  morning,  but  not 
to  you  returns  the  secret  wish  to  go  and  thank  your  Great 
Preserver.  Night  throws  his  shades  around  you  and  you 
lie  down — perhaps  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  death,  and  you 


280  PRACTICAL  SERMONS. 

commend  not  yourself  to  his  fatherly  care.  Troubles 
come,  and  temptations  arise,  and  disappointments  thicken, 
but  none  of  all  your  troubles  has  power  to  induce  you 
to  go  to  God  and  cast  your  care  upon  him.  You  see 
days,  and  weeks,  and  years  roll  away,  and  the  judgment 
lessens  its  distance  each  moment,  and  death,  '•  king  of 
terrors,"  draws  nearer,  and  still  you  do  not  pray.  Once 
you  prayed.  Your  mother  taught  you  to  kneel  before 
your  Maker,  and  put  your  little  hands  together,  and  say, 
"  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven."  But  that  mother  may 
now  slumber  beneath  the  clods  of  the  valley,  or  im- 
mersed in  the  business  or  the  gaiety  of  the  world  you  have 
forgotten  her  counsel,  and  now  live  without  prayer.  A 
traveller  to  eternity  ;  a  dependent  being ;  a  sinner ;  with 
a  soul  that  can  never  die,  you  are  going  to  the  grave,  and 
you  seek  not  your  Maker's  blessing ;  you  ask  not  his 
guidance  and  his  salvation.  Let  me  entreat  of  you  one 
thing.  It  is  to  resume  that  forgotten-habit  of  secret 
prayer.  Go  once  to-day,  if  it  be  the  last  time,  and  ask 
of  Gad  to  save  you.  Go  and  seek  the  face  of  your  long- 
forgotten  God.  Let  it  be,  if  you  will  it  should  be  so,  the 
last  time.  Enter  the  closet  with  this  feeling — '  This  is  the 
last  time  that  I  shall  call  upon  God  ?'  Yet  let  it  once  be 
done.  Stand  not,  I  conjure  you,  at  the  bar  of  God  with 
this  feeling,  '  I  asked  not  to  be  saved.  I  sought  not  to 
enter  into  heaven.'  Turn  not  away  from  the  gates  of 
glory  at  the  close  of  the  scenes  of  the  judgment,  with 
this  feeling,  '  I  go  to  a  world  of  wo  from  which  I  did  not 
ask  to  be  delivered  ;  to  everlasting  despair,  to  be  saved 
from  which  I  raised  not  a  feeble  cry.'  Sinner,  pray  ! 
Deathless  being,  pray !  Aged  man,  soon  to  go  to  the 
judgment,  pray  !  Young  man,  amidst  the  snares  of  the 
world  and  the  temptations  of  this  life,  I  entreat  you  to 
pray  !  Child  of  pious  parents,  baptized  in  the  Saviour's 
name,  pray  !  0  pray,  ye  travellers  to  eternity  ;  pray  that 
you  may  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  ! 


SERMON    IX. 

THE    SABBATH 
Ex.  XX.  8.     Remember  the  Sabbath-day  to  keep  it  holy. 

The  Sabbath  may  be  contemplated  from  many  differ- 
ent points  of  view.  It  may  be  considered  in  its  influence 
on  the  powers  of  onr  nature  exhausted  through  six  days 
of  anxiety  and  toil ;  in  the  necessity  which  is  laid  in  our 
very  constitution  by  the  Author  of  our  being  for  periodical 
seasons  of  relaxation  and  repose ;  in  its  influence  on  the 
intellect  of  an  individual  or  a  people  by  its  directing  the 
attention  to  topics  adapted  to  elevate  and  expand  the  soul ; 
in  the  aid  which  it  furnishes  to  the  magistrate  in  promot- 
ing the  observance  of  law  ;  in  its  influence  on  neighbour- 
hoods and  families  in  promoting  social  feeling,  and  refined 
intercourse  ;  in  its  bearing  on  the  civil  liberties  of  a  nation, 
and  in  its  indispensible  necessity  m  preparing  for  the  life 
to  come.  Each  one  of  these  points  would  furnish  an 
ample  topic  of  discourse ;  and  by  the  arguments  which 
might  be  accumulated  on  these  topics  we  could  satisfy 
any  reasonable  mind  of  the  value  and  importance  of  the 
Sabbath.  But  I  wish  at  this  time  to  present  a  diflerent 
train  of  thought  from  what  would  be  furnished  by  either 
of  these  points.  I  design  particularly  to  address  Christians  ; 
and  to  urge  upon  their  minds  some  considerations  why 
they  should  feel  a  special  interest  in  the  proper  observance 
of  this  day. 

I.  The  first  consideration  whicli  I  shall  suggest  is,  that 
if  the  Sabbath  is  abolished, -the  Christian  rehgion  will  be 
abolished  with  it.  The  question  whether  this  day  is  to 
be  observed  or  desecrated,  is  just  a  question  of  life  and 
death  in  regard  to  Christianity.  This  is  so  obvious  that 
it  scarcely  needs  any  attempt  to  prove  it.  Without  a 
Sabbath  our  public  institutions  desigiied  to  promote  and 
perpetuate  religion  would  cease  ;  our  Sabbath-schools 
v/ould  be  disbanded ;  family  instruction  would  soon  come 
to  an  end  ;  the  sanctuaries  would  be  closed  ;  the  ministry 

21*  2S1 


282  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

dismissed  and  discarded ;  the  current  of  worldly  affairs 
would  be  unbroken  ;  plans  of  evil  would  meet  with  no 
interruption  ;  and  all  tlie  means  of  grace  would  be  at  once 
arrested.  Christians  might  meet  at  irregular  and  distant 
intervals  for  prayer  and  praise ;  but  the  number  of  such 
meetings  would  rapidly  decrease,  and  soon  the  last  vestige 
of  Christianity  would  disappear.  The  books  containing 
its  defence  would  be  forgotten,  and  the  Bible  soon  cease 
to  be  read  with  interest  or  gratitude.  If  the  Sabbath  be 
abolished,  what  hold  can  Christianity  have  on  man  ? 
What  way  of  access  can  it  have  to  the  heart  and  con- 
science ?  How  shall  the  arguments  for  its  truth  be 
brought  before  the  mind  ?  How  shall  its  moral  precepts 
be  urged  ?  How  shall  its  high  hopes,  and  its  solemn  ap- 
peals and  sanctions  be  presented  ?  And  how  shall  its 
stern  rebukes  be  made  to  fall  on  the  ears  of  the  guilty  ? 
If  you  close  your  churches,  and  your  Sabbath-schools, 
there  is  no  other  eflectual  way.  Nothing  can  be  plainer 
than  this ;  and  nothing  can  be  more  manifest  than  that 
he  who  violates,  or  disregards  the  Sabbath,  is  taking  the 
most  effectual  means  for  obliterating  the  Christian  reli- 
gion from  the  world. 

The  whole  history  of  Christianity  shows  that  where  the 
Sabbath  is  observed  religion  flourishes ;  where  it  is  not, 
religion  dies  away  and  becomes  extinct.  We  might  appeal 
here  to  any  man's  observation,  and  ask  him  to  recall  the 
memory  of  a  place  where  there  is  no  Sabbath,  and  the 
scenes  which  he  witnessed  there.  Was  the  voice  of 
prayer  heard  there  ?  Was  God  feared  and  honored  ?  Were 
children  and  youth  trained  in  the  ways  of  religion,  and 
taught  to  worship  and  honor  their  Maker  ?  Did  meek- 
ness, and  temperance,  and  chastity,  and  justice,  and 
honesty  abound  ?  Or  Avas  the  place  distinguished  for 
riot  and  disorder;  for  falsehood  and  profaneness ;  for  in- 
temperance and  licentiousness;  for  indolence  and  brutal 
scenes  of  violence  and  strife  ?  Was  there  ever  a  place 
in  which  the  Sabbath  began  to  be  observed  in  Avhich 
there  did  not  revive  the  love  of  truth  and  order ;  indus- 
try and  intelligence ;  urbanity  and  benevolence ;  tem.- 
perance,  purity,  and  the  love  of  God — like  streams  break- 
ing out  in  the  desert,  and  like  the  lily  and  the  rose  spring- 
ing up  in  waste  and  sandy  places  !     Has  there  ever  been 


THE    SABBATH.  283 

an  instance  where  this  day  has  been  observed,  that  it  has 
not  been  followed  by  the  blessings  which  industry,  and 
temperance,  and  intelligence,  and  piety  carry  hi  their 
train  ?  This  appeal  is  made  with  the  utmost  confidence  ; 
and  the  friends  and  foes  of  Christianity  are  invited  to 
examine  the  point  at  their  leisure. 

Well  do  the  enemies  of  Christianity  in  these  times, 
know  what  they  are  about.  In  former  generations,  at- 
tempts were  made  to  destroy  the  gospel  by  the  sword  and 
the  faggot ; — but  all  such  attempts  were  foiled.  Imperial 
power  attempted  to  crush  it ;  but  imperial  power  found 
its  arm  too  weak  to  contend  with  God.  Argument  and 
sophistry  were  then  employed;  ridicule  lent  its  aid,  and 
contempt  pointed  the  finger  of  scorn  ;  but  all  was  in  vain. 
Christianity  survived  all  these,  and  rose  with  augmented 
power  and  more  resplendent  beauty — and  would  do  so  to 
the  end  of  time.  But  there  is  one  weapon  Avhich  the 
enemy  has  employed  to  destroy  Christianity,  and  to  drive 
it  from  the  world,  which  has  never  been  employed  but 
with  signal  success.  It  is  the  attempt  to  corrupt  the 
Christian  Sabbath  ;  to  make  it  a  day  of  festivity  ;  to  cause 
Christians  to  feel  that  its  sacred  and  rigid  obligation  has 
ceased ;  to  induce  them  on  that  day  to  mingle  in  the 
scenes  of  pleasure,  or  the  exciting  plans  of  ambition  ; — • 
to  make  them  feel  that  they  may  pursue  their  journeys 
by  land  and  water — by  the  steam  boat  and  the  car  re- 
gardless of  the  command  of  God ;  and  this  has  done,  and 
will  contmue  to  do,  what  no  argument,  no  sophistry,  no 
imperial  power  has  been  able  to  accomplish.  The  "  Book 
of  Sports"  did  more  to  destroy  Christianity  than  all  the 
ten  persecutions  of  the  Roman  emperors  ;  and  the  views 
of  the  second  Charles  and  his  court  about  the  Lord's  day, 
tended  more  to  drive  religion  from  the  British  nation  than 
all  tlie  fires  that  Avere  enkindled  by  Mary.  Paris  has  no 
Sabbath,  and  that  fact  has  done  more  to  banish  Chris- 
tianity than  all  the  writing  of  Voltaire ;  and  Vienna  has 
no  Sabbath,  and  that  fact  does  more  to  annihilate  religion 
there  than  ever  did  the  scepticism  of  Frederick.  Turn 
the  Sabbath  into  a  day  of  sports  and  pastime ;  of  military 
reviews,  and  of  pantomimes  and  theatrical  exhibitions, 
and  not  an  infidel  any  where  would  care  a  farthing  about 


2S4  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  tomes  of  Volney  or  Voltaire ;  about  the  scepticism  of 
Hume,  the  sneers  of  Gibbon,  or  the  scurrility  of  Paine. 

Tlie  great  enemy  of  God  and  liberty,  in  this  western 
world,  understands  how  to  meet  Christianity  here.     He 
knows  that  it  will  not  be  possible  to  kindle  the  flames  of 
persecution.    He  knows  that  the  friends  of  Christ  cannot 
be  turned  over  by  the  sentence  of  the  Inquisition  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  the  civil  arm.    He  knows  that  he  cannot 
get  up  an  auto-de-fe,  and  that  the  garden  of  the  capi- 
tol  cannot  be  illuminated  by  the  burning  bodies  of  the 
samts.     He  knows  too  that  there  is  too  much  science  and 
learning  :  that  there  are  too  many  schools  and  colleges, 
to  attempt  to  attack  it  by  sophistry  and  argument.     It  has 
passed  through  too  many  such  trials,  and  has  come  out  of 
them  all  unscathed.     But  was  there  no  new  form  of  op- 
position  by  which  religion   could  be   met   in  the  new 
vrorld ;  no  vital  part  of  Christianity  that  could  be  reached  : 
no  blow  that  could  be  struck  that  would  wither  its  rising 
power,  and  lay  it  prostrate  in  the  dust  ?     There  was  one 
experiment  that  could  be  made.     Over  these  broad  and 
ample  states  and  territories  men  might  be  sent  in  search 
of  gain,  regardless  of  the  Sabbath.     Our  majestic  streams 
— windijig  along  for    thousands    of  miles    through   the 
richest  lands  on  earth— might  be  ascended  regardless  of  the 
sacredness  of  the  day.     Young  men  miglit  be  led  away, 
by  the  hope  of  wealth,  from  the  peaceful  scenes  where  a 
Sabbath  sheds  repose  on  a  village,  or  the  Sabbath  bell 
summons   an  entire  population  to  worship   God.     The 
nation  might  be  roused  by  the  love  of  gold ;  and  new 
facilities  for  intercourse,  and  the  love  of  travel  might  un- 
settle almost  the  whole  population,  and  transform  tliern 
into  wandering  tribes  or  families,  and  lead  them  to  trample 
down  the  barriers  of  virtue,  and  the  institutions  of  religion. 
The  experiment  was  one  of  vast  moment,  and  as  fearful 
in  its  results  as  it  was  vast.     It  involves  the  whole  interest 
of  this  nation.    Its  result  will  settle  the  fate  of  Christianity 
in  this  land,  and  perhaps  throughout  the  world.     If  we 
can  have  a  Sabbath,  sacred  in  its  stillness  and  its  associa- 
tions ;  maintained  by  a  healthful  popular  sentiment  rather 
than  by  human  laws ;  revered  as  a  day  of  holy  rest,  and 
as  a  type  of  keaven ;  a  day  when  men  shall  delight  to 


THE    SABBATH.  285 

come  together  to  worship  God,  and  not  a  day  of  pastime, 
Christianity  is  safe  in  this  land,  and  our  country  is  safe. 
If  not,  the  Sabbath,  and  rehgion,  and  hberty  will  die  to- 
gether. 

In  the  experiment  going  on  in  this  land  not  few  hands 
are  engaged  but  many.  It  is  not  the  mere  work  of 
thoughtlessness  and  recklessness,  but  it  has  all  the  marks 
of  purpose  and  of  plan.  It  has  evidence  of  being  under 
the  control  of  that  master  mind  that  is  the  author  of  all 
evil,  and  the  father  of  all  the  embarrassments  that  Chris- 
tianity has  ever  met  with.  The  attempt  to  blot  out  the 
Sabbath  from  this  land  evinces  more  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  and  more  tact  and  skill  than  the  persecutions  of 
the  Roman  emperors  or  of  Mary.  For  who  is  engaged  in 
the  work  of  blotting  out  the  Sabbath  ?  Every  atheist  is 
engaged  in  it,  and  here  places  his  main  hope  of  success. 
Every  sceptic  is  engaged  in  it,  and  anticipates  more  from 
this  than  from  all  his  arguments.  Every  profane  man, 
and  every  intemperate  man,  and  every  licentious  man  is 
engaged  in  it,  for  in  this  way  they  hope  that  all  restraint 
will  be  removed  from  unlimited  indulgence  in  vice.  And 
a  multitude  of  men  who  are  not  professedly  atheists  or 
infidels,  but  Avhose  heart  is  with  them  in  their  leading 
purposes,  unite  Avith  them  in  opposing  the  sacredness  of 
this  day.  In  one  word,  the  mass  of  busy,  active,  unprin- 
cipled, infidel  mind  in  this  nation,  in  high  life  and  low, 
in  oflice  and  out  of  office,  in  city  and  country,  that  for 
various  reasons  would  desire  Christianity  to  be  extin- 
guished, has  made  war  on  the  Sabbath,  and  is  prosecut- 
ing that  Avar  by  all  the  means  within  its  reach,  and,  it  is 
to  be  feared,  with  augmenting  prospects  of  success. 

The  question  now  is  just  this.  Is  Christianity  worth 
preserving,  or  can  we  afford  to  see  it  driven  from  the 
land?  Are  we  so  secure  without  it  in  our  individual  and 
national  interests,  that  Ave  can  part  Avith  it  Avithout  re- 
gret ;  or  is  it  Avith  an  effort  to  save  it  ?  Has  Christianity 
such  a  connection  Avith  pure  and  Avholesome  morals  as 
to  make  it  desirable  to  retain  it  in  the  commouAvealth,  or 
Avill  our  morals  be  equally  pure  Avithout  it  ?  Can  this 
great  nation  be  gOA^erned  and  defended  without  a  God, 
or  Avill  it  be  best  to  yield  obedience  to  his  laAvs,  and  re- 
tain the  religion  of  "peace  and  good  Avill  toward  men*^ 


286  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

among  us,  and  transmit  it  to  posterity  ?  These  are  ques- 
tions connected  with  the  Sabbath  ;  and  the  course  which 
is  pursued  in  regard  to  this  day  will  settle  them  all. 

II.  The  second  reason  why  this  subject  demands  now 
the  special  attention  of  Christians  is,  that  if  the  Sabbath 
is  not  regarded  as  holy  time,  it  will  be  regarded  as  pas- 
time ;  if  not  a  day  sacred  to  devotion,  it  will  be  a  day  of 
recreation,  of  pleasure,  of  licentiousness.  The  Sabbath 
is  not  essentially  an  arbitrary  appointment,  for  it  is  re- 
quired in  the  very  nature  of  the  animal  economy  that 
there  should  be  periodical  seasons  of  relaxation.  Nature 
cannot  always  be  taxed  to  incessant  effort.  We  must 
have  periodical  rest  in  all  the  functions  of  our  nature. 
Bonaparte  once  passed  three  entire  days  and  nights  with- 
out sleep,  but  he  could  no  longer  contend  against  a  great 
law  of  nature,  and  sank  to  sleep  on  his  horse.  There  is 
not  a  muscle  in  the  animal  economy  that  does  not  de- 
mand rest  after  effort,  and  that  will  not  have  it.  If  it 
is  not  granted  voluntarily,  it  will  be  taken.  If  the  powers 
of  nature  are  overworked,  they  will  take  relaxation  by 
disease,  and  perhaps  when  too  late  to  repair  their  ex- 
hausted energies.  This  great  law  of  nature  must  and 
will  be  obeyed.  If  the  frame  is  worn  out  and  exhausted 
without  this  relaxation,  the  consequence  must  be  sickness, 
or  rest  in  the  grave.  The  late  Mr.  Wilberforce  declared 
that  at  one  period  of  his  parliamentary  career,  his  duties 
were  so  multiplied  and  exhausting  that  his  health  must 
have  been  utterly  prostrated,  but  for  the  seasonable  relief 
which  the  Sabbath  afforded  him.  There  is  not  an  animal 
that  can  endure  unceasing  efibrt  without  repose ;  and 
God,  in  requiring  that  the  "cattle"  should  be  allowed  to 
rest  on  the  Sabbath,  has  spoken  according  to  the  laws 
which  he  originally  impressed  on  the  brute  creation.  If 
the  question  were  simply  one  of  interest,  and  a  man 
wished  to  make  the  most  of  the  noble  horse  or  the  patient 
ox,  he  would  allow  him  to  rest  according  to  the  com- 
mandment. For  every  such  day  of  periodical  repose  he 
will  receive  more  than  an  equivalent  in  augmented 
strength  and  length  of  days.  If  rest  is  not  allowed  them, 
their  powers  are  exhausted,  and  they  expire.  The  uni- 
verse is  fitted  up,  as  far  as  we  know,  for  the  purposes  of 
alternate  action  and  rest,  from  the  first  beating  of  the 


THE    SABBATH,  287 

heart  in  infancy  to  the  mightiest  effort  of  the  mature 
man  ;  from  the  insect  that  flutters  and  dies,  to  the  lion  of 
the  forest,  the  mighty  elephant,  and  the  monarch  on  the 
throne. 

In  demanding,  therefore,  that  the  animal  and  mental 
economy  should  be  allowed  a  day  of  periodical  repose, 
God  has  acted  in  accordance  with  a  great  law  of  nature. 
There  is  nothing  arbitrary,  except  in  designating  the  par- 
ticular day  which  shall  be  observed ;  and  all  that  is  arbi- 
trary in  this  is  a  consultation  of  convenience,  that  we  may 
not  be  disturbed  by  tlie  toil  and  action  of  anotlier  while 
Ave  seek  repose — ^just  as  he  has  so  ordained  the  animal 
functions  that  all  are  disposed  to  sleep   at  night. 

Further,  all  nations  have  had,  and  will  have  periodical 
seasons  of  relaxation  from  the  severity  of  toil.  The  Jews 
had  their  weekly  Sabbath ;  the  Greeks  and  Romans  had 
numerous  festivals  in  honor  of  their  gods,  and  many  a 
day  in  the  year  for  riot  and  disorder ;  the  followers  of 
Mohammed  observe  a  weekly  Sabbath ;  the  heathen  na- 
tions observe  numerous  festivals  frequently  occurring  ; 
and  even  the  actors  in  the  French  revolution  Avere  con- 
strained to  bow  to  this  great  law  of  nature,  and  appoint- 
ed one  day  in  ten  as  a  day  of  relaxation  from  toil.  Hesiod 
and  Homer  said,  "  The  seventh  day  is  holy."  Josephus 
says,  "There  is  no  city,  however  barbarous,  where  the 
custom  of  observing  the  seventh  day  which  prevails 
among  the  Jews  is  not  observed."  Eusebius  says,  "Al- 
most ail  the  philosophers  and  the  poets  acknowledge  the 
seventh  day  as  holy."*  Whatever  may  be  the  time  se- 
lected, whether  a  day  in  honor  of  an  idol,  or  in  honor  of 
the  Saviour ;  whether  one  day  in  seven,  or  one  day  in 
ten ;  whether  it  be  in  honor  of  a  saint,  a  hero,  or  the 
birth-day  of  a  prince  or  of  a  nation,  such  days  will  be 
observed.  In  our  country  it  is  settled  that  this  day  of 
periodical  rest  is  to  be  the  first  day  of  the  week.  This 
is  settled  by  custom ;  by  the  statutes  of  the  land ;  by  the 
practices  in  courts  and  legislatures ;  by  mih'ersal  under- 
standing among  farmers  and  mechanics;  by  the  esta- 
blished laws  and  habits  in  our  colleges  and  schools, 
between  the  master  and  the  slave,  and  among  neighbors 

•  Grotius  de  Veritate.  Lib.  1,  sec.  xvi. 


288  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

every  where.  No  one  expects  to  find  his  neighbor  at 
work  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and  should  even  a  master  attempt 
to  enforce  labor  on  the  Sabbath,  he  Avould  go  against 
the  moral  sense  of  the  nation,  and  against  the  settled 
customs  of  the  land.  This  custom  is  settled,  moreover, 
by  the  belief  of  the  religious  portion  of  the  nation  that 
this  is  holy  time,  and  by  the  Ungerings  of  conscience 
among  those  who  have  been  trained  in  the  ways  of 
religion.  It  is  to  be  the  settled  custom  in  this  nation 
that  on  this  day  toil  is  to  cease,  and  men  are  to  give 
themselves  to  other  purposes  than  the  ordinary  employ- 
ments of  life.  As  a  general  habit  all  over  the  land, 
our  stores  and  counting-houses  will  be  shut ;  our  schools 
will  be  disbanded  ;  our  courts  and  public  offices  will  be 
closed ;  our  banks  and  insurance  oftlces  will  cease  to  do 
business ;  our  mechanics  will  lay  aside  the  saw  and  the 
hammer;  the  student  will  close  his  books,  the  farmer  will 
leave  his  plow  in  the  furrow,  the  woodman  will  lay  down 
his  axe,  the  apprentice  will  be  at  liberty,  and  the  slave 
will  feel  that  he  has  a  little  time  that  in  some  proper  sense 
is  his  own.  The  day  is  to  be  a  day  of  relaxation  and 
rest.  It  is  either  to  be  devoted  to  religion,  or  to  such  pas- 
times as  the  general  public  sentiment  shall  demand. 

Since  this  is  to  be  so,  the  question  is,  what  is  to  be  the 
eftect  if  the  day  ceases  to  be  a  day  of  religious  observ- 
ance ?  What  will  be  the  effect  of  releasing  a  population 
of  several  millions  one-seventh  part  of  the  time  from  any 
settled  bushiess  of  life  ?  What  will  be  the  result  if  they 
are  brought  under  no  religious  instruction  ?  What  will 
be  the  effect  on  morals ;  on  religion ;  on  sober  habits  of 
industry;  on  virtue,  happiness,  and  patriotism?  Can  we 
safely  close  our  places  of  business,  and  annihilate  all  the 
restraints  that  bind  us  during  the  six  days;  can  we  turn 
out  a  vast  population  of  the  young  with  nothing  to  do,  and 
abide  the  consequences  of  such  a  universal  exposure  to 
vice  ?  Can  we  safely  dismiss  our  young  men,  all  over  the 
land,  with  sentiments  unsettled,  and  with  habits  of  virtue 
unformed,  and  throw  them  one  day  in  seven  upon  the 
world  with  nothing  to  do  ?  Can  we  safely  release  our  sons, 
and  our  apprentices,  and  our  clerks  from  our  employ,  and 
send  them  forth  under  the  influence  of  unchecked  youth- 
ful passion  ?  Can  we  safely  open,  as  we  do,  fountains  of 


THE    SABBATH.  289 

poison  at  every  corner  of  the  street,  and  in  every  village 
and  hamlet,  and  invite  the  young  to  drink  there  with  im- 
punity.'' Can  there  be  a  season  of  universal  relaxation, 
occurring  fifty-two  times  in  a  year,  when  all  restraints  are 
withdrawn,  and  when  the  power  of  temptation  shall  be 
plied  with  all  that  art  and  skill  can  do  to  lead  the  hosts  in 
the  way  to  ruin,  and  to  drag  them  down  to  hell  ? 

One  would  suppose  that  the  experiment  which  has 
already  been  made  in  cities  of  our  land,  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  remove  all  doubt  from  every  reasonable  mind  on 
this  subject.  We  are  making  the  experiment  on  a  large 
scale  every  Sabbath.  Extensively  in  our  large  cities  and 
their  vicinities,  this  is  a  day  of  dissipation,  of  riot,  of 
licentiousness,  and  of  blasphemy.  It  is  probable  that  more 
is  done  to  unsettle  the  habits  of  virtue,  and  soberness,  and 
industry ;  to  propagate  infidelity,  and  to  lay  the  founda- 
tion for  future  repentance  or  ignominy ;  to  retard  the  pro- 
gress of  the  temperance  reformation,  and  to  prepare 
candidates  for  the  penitentiary  and  the  gallows  on  this 
day  than  on  all  the  other  days  of  the  week.  So  it  always 
is  where  institutions  designed  for  good  are  abused.  They 
become  as  powerful  in  evil  as  they  were  intended  to  be 
for  good.  The  Sabbath  is  an  institution  of  tremendous 
power  for  good  or  evil.  If  for  good,  as  it  is  designed, 
and  as  it  easily  may  be,  it  is  laid  at  the  foundation  of 
all  our  peace,  our  intelligence,  our  morals,  our  religion. 
If  for  evil,  it  strikes  at  all  these ;  nor  is  there  any  pos- 
sible power  in  laws  or  in  education  that  can,  during 
the  six  days,  counteract  the  evils  of  a  Sabbath  given  to 
licentiousness  and  sin.  And  the  question  before  the 
nation  is  not,  whether  this  is  to  be  a  day  of  labor  and 
sober  industry,  for  that  is  settled,  but  whether  it  is  to 
be  a  day  of  religion  or  licentiousness ;  a  day  of  virtue  or 
of  sin ;  a  day  for  God,  or  a  day  for  the  devil.  It  is,  whe- 
ther the  nation  can  afford  to  have  one  day  in  seven  a 
day  of  riot  and  disorder — a  saturnalia.,  occurring  more 
than  fifty  times  in  the  year,  when  Rome,  in  the  most 
palmy  days  of  her  virtue,  could  scarcely  survive  the 
effects  of  one.  No  graver  question  can  come  before  the 
nation  than  this.  Let  any  one  ask  himself  what  would  be 
the  effect  of  having  a  day  kept  as  the  anniversary  of  our 
independence  has  usually  been,  occurring  more  than  fifty 

25 


290  PRACTICAL    SERMO^-S. 

times  in  the  year — a  day  of  riot  and  drunkenness — and 
he  can  be  at  no  loss  what  answer  is  to  be  given  to  such 
a  question. 

Furtlier,  the  Sabbath  is  favorable  to  the  spread  of  pure 
moraUty,  and  the  most  pure  and  elevated  virtues  are 
found  in  those  communities  that  obser\-e  it  as  a  day  of 
holy  rest.  This  assertion  is  made  with  the  utmost  confi- 
dence, and  you  are  invited  to  test  the  truth  of  it  as  often 
as  you  please.  Go  through  the  country  and  examine  the 
cities,  the  towns,  and  the  villages;  mingle  with  the  inha- 
bitants of  every  class,  and  converse  with  them  freely ; 
learn  their  opinions  and  their  habits;  examine  their  pri- 
sons and  their  almshouses,  and  then  tell  me  v/here  you 
find  most  industry,  most  sober  habits,  most  contentment, 
most  sobriety,  most  inteUigence,  most  freedom  from  low 
and  debashig  vices.  Tell  me  in  what  place  you  would 
prefer  to  place  a  son,  or  where  you  would  wish  a  daugh- 
ter to  be  educated?  Is  there  here  a  parent  who  would 
hesitate  for  one  moment  in  regard  to  this  ?  The  virtues 
which  go  to  adorn  domestic  intercourse,  and  to  cement 
society:  the  mild  and  gentle  charities  that  are  connected 
with  the  fireside,  with  the  sick-room,  and  the  bed  of 
death,  flourish  pre-eminently  among  those  who  love  the 
sound  of  the  Sabbath-bell.  Can  you  point  me  to  one 
idle  and  dissolute  family ;  to  one  disturber  of  the  peace  ; 
to  one  vicious  neighborhood ;  to  one  community  in  which 
Ucentiousness  reigns,  Avhere  the  Sabbath  is  habitually  and 
generally  observed  ?  And  can  you  point  me  to  one  com- 
munity where  it  is  not  obseiwed,  which  does  not  become 
riotous  and  vicious,  and  where  intemperance,  and  gam- 
bling, and  licentiousness,  do  not  sooner  or  later  abound  ? 
Sir  ^latthew  Hale  says,  '•  That  of  all  the  persons  con- 
victed of  capital  crimes  while  he  was  on  the  bench,  there 
"were  few  who  were  not  ready  to  confess  that  they  had 
begun  their  career  of  wickedness  by  a  neglect  of  the  duties 
of  the  Sabbath." 

Now  if  the  Sabbath  be  abolished,  it  will  become  a  day 
of  immorality.  In  particular,  I  wish  to  say,  that  this  re- 
mark specially  concerns  young  men.  I  do  believe  that 
if  I  could  collect  around  me  all  the  young  men  of  this 
land,  and  if  I  could  get  their  ear  for  a  little  time,  I  could 
convince  the  mass  of  them  that  the  only  security  for  their 


THE    SABBATH.  291 

correct  moral  character,  and  their  future  iisefuhiess,  suc- 
cess, and  happiness,  will  be  connected  with  the  proper 
observance  of  this  day.  I  could  show  them,  to  their  perfect 
satisfaction,  that  the  temptations  which  are  spread  out  to 
beguile  the  unwary,are  designed  bycunning.unprincipled, 
and  avaricious  men  for  them.  I  could  satisfy  them  that 
when  they  go  forth  from  their  father's  dwellings,  and  from 
the  sanctuary  this  day,  under  the  influence  of  strong  de- 
sires for  pleasure  and  amusement,  they  are  exposed  to 
temptations  where  no  young  man  is  safe,  and  that  beyond 
the  eye  of  a  father  and  a  mother  they  may  be  hurried 
on  to  excesses  which  the}^  would  have  been  shocked  to 
have  anticipated.  For  be  it  remembered  that  no  young 
man  leaves  his  father's  dwelling,  and  devotes  this  day 
to  amusement  and  revelry,  without  flying  in  the  face 
of  an  explicit  command  of  the  ]\Iost  High.  He  tramples 
beneath  his  feet  one  of  the  solemn  mandates  that  were 
given  amidst  flames  and  thunders  on  Mount  Sinai — and 
Avhen  one  command  of  God  is  basely  and  contemptuously 
trod  beneath  his  feet  the  other  nine  will  soon  cease  to  be 
regarded.  Be  it  remembered  too,  that  the  laws  which 
God  has  ordained  tend  only  to  promote  human  virtue  and 
happiness.  Go  to  the  penitentiar}',  and  walk  along  from 
cell  to  cell,  and  enquire  of  the  inmates  when  their  career 
of  guilt  commenced.  Go  and  converse  in  his  sober  mo- 
ments with  the  drunkard,  and  ask  him  when  he  first  trod 
that  downward  way,  and  the  answer  would  be,  in  a  ma- 
jority of  cases,  on  the  Sabbath-day.  I  venture  here  a 
remark — though  with  not  entire  certainty  of  its  correct- 
ness. It  is,  that  in  this  country  more  young  men  com- 
mence the  habits  of  drinking  on  the  Sabbath  than  on  any 
other  day  hi  the  week.  They  are  at  leisure.  They  band 
together.  They  fill  up  the  long  lines  of  packed  vehicles 
that  on  that  day  lead  out  of  our  cities  in  every  direction. 
At  the  end  of  each  one  of  those  brief  journies,  and  at  as 
many  places  on  the  way  as  they  can  be  mduced  to  pause 
at,  a  kind  and  indulgent  public  has  placed  a  dram  shop, 
under  the  name  of  a  tavern,  and  the  Sabbath  is  their 
harvest-time,  and  were  it  not  for  the  Sabbath  they  could 
not  be  sustained  a  month.  There,  many  a  young  man 
in  thoughtlessness  commences  a  career  which  terminates 
in  breaking  a  mother's  heart,  and  in  the  early  wreck  of 


292  TRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

all  the  hopes  of  a  family,  and  in  the  extinction  of  their 
peace  as  they  weep  over  a  drunkard's  grave. 

III.  A  third  reason  why  this  subject  demands  the  at- 
tention of  Christians  in  a  special  manner  now  is,  that 
there  is  a  state  of  things  in  this  land  that  is  tending  to 
obliterate  the  Sabbath  altogether. 

The  events  to  which  I  refer  are  too  well  known  to 
make  it  necessary  to  dwell  particularly  on  them.  In  every 
direction  the  mail  is  carried,  and  the  example  of  the 
violation  of  tlie  day  is  thus  set  by  national  authority. 
Every  post-office  is  required  by  law  to  be  kept  open,  and 
a  public  invitation  is  thus  given  to  obtain  the  political  and 
commercial  intelligence,  and  to  divert  the  mind  from  the 
sacred  duties  of  the  day  by  the  reference  to  the  cares  of 
this  life.  Some  years  since  the  voice  of  respectful  en- 
treaty and  petition  was  addressed  to  the  National  Legis- 
lature by  some  thousands  of  the  best  citizens  in  the  land ; 
— and  the  sacred  right  of  petition  was  met  with  contempt 
and  sarcasm.  In  every  part  of  our  land,  also,  the  facili- 
ties for  intercommunication  have  been  augmented  to  an 
extent  that  excites  the  surprise  of  the  world.  By  canals 
and  rail-roads  distant  portions  of  our  country  have  been 
brought  together,  and  the  land  trembles  as  the  ear  of 
commerce  rolls  on,  and  the  long  lines  of  majestic  improve- 
ments are  crowded  with  the  results  of  our  toil,  and  with 
a  travelling  community.  Against  these  national  improve- 
ments, assuredly,. the  language  of  complaint  is  not  to  be 
urged.  In  many  respects  they  are  the  glory  of  our  land ; 
and  they  should  be  sources  of  gratitude  to  God  who  has 
thus  signally  blessed  our  country.  But  can  any  one  be 
ignorant  that  each  canal  and  rail-road  furnishes  increased 
facihty  for  Sabbath-violation,  and  that  they  are  fast  tend- 
ing to  blot  it  from  the  land  ?  Where  in  these  public  con- 
veyances is  the  Sabbath  regarded  ?  Where  is  the  rail- 
road car  that  is  arrested  by  the  return  of  this  day  ?  Is  it 
not  known  that  these  vehicles,  and  particularly  in  the 
neighborhood  of  our  cities,  are  crowded  with  a  denser 
throng  on  this  day  than  on  any  other  day  in  the  seven  ? 
Had  it  been  the  purpose  of  the  people  of  this  land  to 
abolish  the  Sabbath  altogether,  and  to  furnish  the  most 
rapid  and  extended   means  of  its  entire  obliteration,  it 


THE    SABBATH.  293 

would  have  oeeu  impossible  to  have  devised  a  more  cer- 
tain and  efiectual  way  than  that  which  is  now  employed. 
In  the  mean  time  there  is  an  augmenting  desire  for 
motion  in  this  land.     The  population  is  becoming  mi- 
gratory ;  and  few  pause — whether  Christians  or  not — to 
rest  on  the  Sabbath.     The  merchant  hastens  on  his  way 
to  the  commercial  emporium — as  if  the  saving  of  a  day 
for  worldly  business  were  of  more  value  than  the  observ- 
ance of  the  laws  of  God;  the  legislator  pursues  his  jour- 
ney to  the  capitol — as  if  anxious  to  exhibit  a  specimen 
of  breaking  the  laws  of  God  while  he  goes  to  make  laws 
for  man  ; — the  party  of  pleasure  urge  on  their  way  to  a 
watering-place — determined  to  annihilate  time  and  space, 
as  if  the  affairs  of  the  world  depended  on  their  being  there 
an  hour  earlier  ;  our  sons  in  the  distant  west  are  travel- 
ling at  the  same  time  beyond  the  sound  of  the  Sabbath- 
bell,  and  the  memory  of  the  sanctuary  to  which  it  once 
called  them — as  if  it  were  a  virtue  to  forget  all  the  sacred 
scenes  where  the  calm  light  of  a  Sabbatii-morning  visited 
their  souls  ;  and  the  idle,  the  dissipated,  the  profane,  the 
atheist,  the  Christian,  the  clergyman,  in  these  public  vehi- 
cles, pursue  the  business  of  gain,  or  pleasure,  or  conve- 
nience, or  ambition — as  if  there  were  special  merit  in 
forgetting  all  the  usual  distinctions  of  society,  and  each 
and  all  were  showing  how  they  can  most  effectually  dis- 
regard the  obligations  of  this  day.     For  one  man  in  the 
community  at  large  who  will  conscientiously  stop  on  his 
journey  to  keep  holy  the  Sabbath-day,  there  are  probably 
ten  who  will  be  at  special  pains  to  violate  it,  either  by 
commencing  a  journey  on  that  day,  or  by  making  it  the 
occasion  of  an  excursion  of  pleasure.     In  the  high  places 
of  the  land  too  there  is  an  increasing  laxness  of  principle 
on  this  subject.     During  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls 
in  the  war  of  Independence,  our  fathers  would  have  been 
alarmed   had  the  ordinary  business  of  legislation  been 
pursued  on  the  Sabbath,  and  the  voice  of  indignant  re- 
monstrance would  have  been  heard  througliout  the  land. 
Yet  nothing  has  been  more  common  of  late  years  than 
for  the  National  Legislature,  after  wasting   months  in 
needless  and  profitless  debate,  to  close  their  labors  on  the 
Sabbath — and  amidst  such  scenes  of  disorder  as  to  be 
a  disgrace  to  themselves  and  the  nation  on  any  day. — 

25* 


294  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

It  is  not  easy  for  men  in  any  situation  to  cast  off  respect 
for  the  laws  of  God  and  at  the  same  time  maintain  a 
character  for  sober  virtue  and  order ;  and  in  legislatures 
as  elsewhere  a  disregard  for  God's  laws  is  but  the  begin- 
ning of  evil.  Yet  the  nation  has  not  been  alarmed.  A 
few  feeble  voices  from  the  press  have  been  heard,  but 
they  have  died  away ;  and  the  nation  seems  resolved  to 
acquiesce  in  the  insult  put  upon  the  religious  sentiments 
of  the  great  body  of  the  people  of  the  land,  and  in  the 
disregard  of  the  nation  in  its  highest  functions  for  the 
Sabbath  of  the  Lord. 

I  will  close  by  repeating  a  remark  already  made.  It  is 
this.  The  warfare  which  Christianity  is  to  wage  in  this 
land  is  here.  The  opposition  to  religion  is  here.  The 
Sabbath  has  more  enemies  in  this  land  than  the  Lord's 
Supper ;  than  baptism ;  than  the  Bible  ;  than  all  the  other 
institutions  of  religion  put  together.  At  the  same  time 
it  is  more  difficult  to  meet  the  enemy  here  than  any 
where  else — for  we  come  in  conflict  not  with  argument 
— but  with  interest,  and  pleasure,  and  the  love  of  indul- 
gence, and  of  gain.  The  conflict  is  to  rage  here.  The 
wish  of  the  atheist,  the  infidel,  the  man  of  vice,  is  to 
blot  out  the  Sabbath.  The  attempt  will  not  be  made 
here  to  destroy  Christianity  by  persecution,  for  that  has 
been  often  tried,  and  has  always  faUed.  It  is  to  see 
whether  the  Sabbath  can  be  obliterated  from  the  melnory 
of  man  ;  and  if  it  can  be  done  it  will  be  done.  If  this 
day,  with  its  sacred  institutions,  can  be  blotted  out,  the 
victory  will  be  won.  Infidelity  will  achieve  what  the 
faggot  and  the  stake,  the  force  of  argument  and  the 
caustic  severity  of  sarcasm  and  ridicule  have  never  been 
able  to  accomplish.  And  it  is  just  now  a  question  for 
the  good  people  of  this  land  to  determine  for  them- 
selves whether  they  shall  abandon  the  day,  or  make 
an  effort  to  save  it ;  whether  the  virtuous  and  the  pious 
shall  yield  the  victory  without  a  struggle,  or  whether  they 
shall  combine  their  efl"orts,  and  address  the  reason  and  con- 
science of  their  fellow-citizens  and  speak  to  them  of  our 
hallowed  institutions,  and  of  the  rapid  corruption  of  the 
public  morals ;  whether  they  shall  remind  them  of  what 
the  Sabbath  has  done  for  us  in  better  times,  and  attempt 
to  bring  back  the  nation  to  the  observance  of  an  institu- 


THE    SABBATH.  295 

tion  that  would  diffuse  intelligence,  and  soberness,  and 
industry,  and  salvation  all  over  the  land  ;  or  whether  dis- 
heartened by  the  difficulties  in  the  case,  and  overpowered 
by  numbers,  they  shall  give  it  up  in  despair.  On  the  po- 
sition which  each  individual  takes  on  these  questions, 
more  may  depend  than  on  any  other  single  step  in  his 
Hfe ;  on  his  course  in  regard  to  the  Sabbath  will  depend 
much  of  the  peace  or  the  sorrow  of  the  bed  of  death. 


SERMON  XX. 


SECRET    FAULTS. 


Psalm  xix.  112.  Who  can  understand  his  errors  ?  Cleanse  thou  me 
from  secret  faults. 

Secret  Faults. — Men  are  usually  much  less  anxious 
to  be  free  from  them  than  they  are  to  be  restramed  from 
open  transgression.  Yet,  they  enter  deeply  into  tlie  cha- 
racter, and  will  enter  into  the  fnture  judgment.  It  is 
miportant,  therefore,  that  we  should  understand  our  own 
secret  propensities  to  evil ;  and  important  that  we  should 
urge,  with  fervor  and  sincerity,  the  petition  of  the  text, 
*•  Cleanse  thou  me  from  secret  faults." 

The  foUowmg  points  will  be  considered  ui  illustratmg 
this  subject  : 

I.  What  are  secret  faults  ; 

II.  By  what  means  they  are  concealed;  and, 

III.  Why  should  we  desire  and  pray  to  be  delivered 
from  them  ? 

I.  What  are  secret  faults?  They  stand  opposed  to 
open  and  "presumptuous  transgressions ;"  to  such  as  are 
seen  and  known  by  tlie  world.  They  pertain  to  the  mo- 
tives, the  feelmgs,  the  intentions  of  the  heart.  They  relate 
particularly  to  such  sins  as  the  following : 

(1.)  To  the  secret  bias  of  the  heart  to  evil.  There  may 
be  what  may  be  called  latent  gnilt ;  a  propensity  of  the 
soul  to  sin  which  has  never  been  developed,  and  of  which, 
except  in  the  feeblest  degree,  we  may  be  scarcely  con- 
scious ourselves.  Many  a  parent  is  surprised  to  see  his 
son,  in  some  new  situation  in  life,  evince  a  propensity  to 
some  form  of  vice  which  he  had  never  suspected.  The 
reason  was,  that  he  was  not  before  placed  in  a  situation 
to  develop  the  peculiar  depravity  of  his  heart.  Many  a 
man  discovers  a  propensity  to  evil  suddenly  springing  up 
in  liis  own  soul,  which  is  equally  surprising  to  himself  and 
to  his  friends.  To  his  own  amazement,  he  finds  himself 
suddenly  growing  covetous,  or  ambitious,  or  proud,  and 

296 


SECRET    FAULTS.  2.97 

wonders  at  the  extraordinary  power  which  the  apparently- 
new-born  propensity  has  over  his  mind.  The  reason  is, 
that  the  strong  native  inchnation  of  his  soul  has  not  be- 
fore been  in  circumstances  to  develop  itself.  It  has  been 
held  in  check  and  abeyance,  and  no  opportunity  has  oc- 
curred where  he  could  act  out  his  nature.  No  man  knows 
what  latent  propensities  to  evil  there  may  be  in  the  soul, 
imtil  he  has  been  thrown  into  a  variety  of  circumstances 
fitted  to  test  his  character,  and  show  him  what  he  is. 
The  human  heart  is  a  great  deep.  No  line  has  been 
found  long  enough  to  sound  it ;  and  as  it  is  in  regard  to 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  so  no  one  has  fully  told  us  what 
lies  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  soul  of  man. 

(2.)  Secret  faults  consist  of  the  unholy  thoughts  which 
we  intend  no  o.her  person  shall  know.  Some  of  those 
are  usually  of  so  gross  a  character,  that  the  great  body 
of  persons  at  once  reject  them,  and  strive  to  be  free  from 
them.  But  others  are  such  as  the  mind  indulges  in,  with 
little  effort  to  remove  them,  and  with  little  sense  of  their 
evil.  They  go  materially  into  the  formation  of  the  cha- 
racter as  it  is  seen  by  God,  and  as  it  is  ultimately  deve- 
loped before  men,  but  they  are  often  long  indulged  bcf,>re 
there  is  any  very  decided  effort  to  remove  them,  or  any 
very  deep  conviction  that  they  are  evil.  Most  uncon- 
verted minds  are  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  trains  of 
thought  which  they  would  by  no  means  be  willing  that 
the  world  should  know  of,  and  not  a  few  such  thoughts 
are  suffered  to  pass  through  the  minds  of  those  who  are 
professedly  of  pure  life,  which  they  are  anxious  to  conceal 
from  their  fellow-men.  Few,  indeed,  are  the  hearts  that 
would  bear  the  revolution  of  its  workings  for  a  single  day 
without  exciting  a  blush;  and  few  are  the  inhabitants  of 
this  world,  if  there  are  any,  who  would  be  willing  that 
their  secret  views,  and  thoughts,  and  plans,  for  any  con- 
siderable period  of  their  lives,  should  be  laid  open  before 
their  best  friends. 

(3.)  Secret  faults  are  those  sinful  emotions  and  affec- 
tions which  rise  up  in  the  best  hearts  almost  involuntarily, 
and  against  which  a  mind  wishing  to  be  pure  struggles. 
They  are  the  operations  of  a  nature  deeply  depraved. 
They  are  the  streams  that  flow  forth  from  the  corrupt 
fountain,  the  heart.     They  are  the  result  of  former  habits 


298  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

of  thinking,  and  of  the  former  course  of  hfe.  There  is  much 
in  habit,  whether  for  good  or  evil,  which  we  cannot 
understand.  Essentially  we  mean  by  it  the  facility  for 
doing  any  thing  which  results  from  having  often  done  it ; 
and  when  once  a  man  has  acquired  the  habit  of  sinning,  it 
will  follow  him  and  annoy  him  until  contrary  habits  are 
formed.  A  man  who  has  been  in  the  habit  of  profane- 
ness,  will  long  after  find  the  words  of  blasphemy  rising  in 
his  mind  almost  involuntarily  and  irresistibly.  He  who 
has  been  an  infidel,  will  find  infidel  thoughts  and  associa- 
tions torturing  his  peace  for  years  after  he  becomes  a  true 
Christian.  He  who  has  been  proud,  and  irritable,  and 
selfish,  and  stubborn,  and  self-confident,  and  fault-finding, 
and  censorious  before  his  conversion,  will  find  a  constant 
tendency  to  these  sins  afterwards,  and  will  detect  himself 
in  their  indulgence  almost  before  he  is  aware  of  it.  He 
who  was  covetous  or  avaricious  before  his  conversion, 
will  find  the  mighty  remains  of  these  sins  in  his  heart 
after  he  becomes  a  Christian,  and  will  be  subjected  to 
their  secret  operation,  even  when  his  general  course  of 
life  is  that  of  a  man  of  benevolence.  We  are  beset  with 
two  classes  of  evils — there  is  the  evil  of  our  original  bias 
to  transgress — the  powerful  tendency  with  which  we 
came  into  the  world ;  and  there  is  the  evil  arising  from 
long  indulgence  in  habits  of  sin.  He  who  commences 
the  Christian  life  in  youth,  will  have  the  least  trouble 
from  either  of  these  sources;  he  who  is  converted  at 
middle  or  advanced  life  must  expect  a  furious  warfare 
that  shall  cease  only  at  death. 

(4.)  Secret  faults  include  those  plans  of  evil  which  are 
not  prosecuted  to  their  completion.  They  are  formed, 
and  there  is  an  intention  of  executing  them,  but  the  op- 
portunity does  not  occur;  or  some  unexpected  barrier  is 
thrown  in  the  way ;  or  the  heart  fails ;  or  death  breaks 
up  the  scheme.  Of  all  the  plans  of  evil  that  have  been 
formed  on  earth,  but  a  small  proportion  have  ever  been 
executed;  and  great  as  is  the  aggregate  of  iniquity,  the 
amount  would  have  been  much  more  vast  if  all  the  pur- 
poses of  wickedness  had  been  accomplished  as  Avas  de- 
sired by  their  projectors.  Bad  as  the  world  is,  and  much 
occasion  as  there  is  to  mourn  over  it,  yet  but  little  of  the 
evil  that  has  in  fact  existed  has  appeared  to  any  but 


SECRET    FAULTS.  299 

to  the  all-seeing  eye  of  God.  This  is  one  reason  why  his 
estimate  of  the  iiuman  character  in  the  Bible,  seems  to  be 
so  much  more  severe  than  that  which  men  form.  He 
looks  upon  the  heart ;  sees  all  the  unexecuted  plans  of 
evil ;  knows  what  man  would  do  if  he  were  unrestrained ; 
and  forms  his  view  of  the  human  character  from  what  he 
sees  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  soul,  and  will  judge 
men  according  to  that. 

In  speaking  of  secret  faults,  I  might  go  on  to  speak  of 
the  crimes  that  are  perpetrated  in  darkness;  of  those 
which  escape  the  eye  of  the  most  vigilant  police  ;  of  those 
which  have  been  committed  and  which  are  forgotten  ;  and 
of  those  which  are  perpetrated  under  the  specious  name 
of  virtue,  and  which  pass  for  virtue  among  men.  13 nt  the 
enumeration  already  given  will  furnish  an  idea  of  what 
I  mean,  and  will  prepare  the  way  for  considering  the  pro- 
priety of  prayer  for  deliverance  from  them  in  another 
part  of  this  discourse.     I  proceed,  therefore,  to  show, 

II.  In  the  second  place,  some  of  the  ways  in  which  sin 
is  concealed,  or  in  which  our  faults  are  hid  from  detection, 
so  that  they  remain  unknoAvn  to. others. 

(1.)  I  begin  with  observing  that  men  design  to  conceal 
them.  A  power  to  hide  our  purposes  is  essential  to  the 
existence  of  society,  and  grows  out  of  its  very  organi- 
zation. The  body  becomes  the  shield  of  the  soul  to  guard 
our  plans  from  the  observation  of  other  minds,  and  to 
bury  our  thoughts  from  the  notice  of  all  but  the  Omniscient 
Eye.  It  becomes  a  right  which  every  man  has,  to  conceal 
those  of  his  plans  in  his  own  bosom  which  he  is  unwilling 
the  world  should  know.  This  power  we  hold  for  good. 
It  is  essential  often  to  the  accomplishment  of  our  virtuous 
purposes,  which  would  be  defeated  if  we  could  not  hide 
them  from  others ;  it  is  vital  to  the  performance  of  con- 
templated deeds  of  benevolence — for  if  the  wicked  could 
see  them  they  would  often  defeat  them.  It  constitutes 
individuality  in  the  midst  of  society,  that  we  are  known 
only  so  far  as  we  wish  to  be  known ;  and  that  we  may 
walk  among  thousands  and  be  the  depositories  of  our  own 
secrets,  and  keep  our  individual  aims  hidden  from  the 
world. 

The  power  of  concealment  is,  therefore,  originally  an 


300  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

arrangement  for  good.  But  it  may  be  abused  for  pur- 
poses of  evil ;  and  my  observation  now  is,  that  a  large 
part  of  the  plans  of  wickedness  in  this  world  are  concealed 
of  design.  There  is  a  course  of  discipline  in  vice  to  accom- 
plish this,  and  it  is  often  successful.  God  has  placed  in 
the  human  frame  by  nature  certain  indications  of  secret 
guilt ;  and  he  meant  that  where  that  guilt  existed  it  should 
betray  itself  for  the  well-being  of  society.  He  designed 
not  only  that  the  conscience  should  check  the  offender, 
but  he  implanted  in  the  frame  itself,  certain  indications 
of  guilt  which  he  intended  also  to  be  a  safeguard  of  virtue. 
The  blushing  cheek — the  mysterious  rush  of  blood  there 
which  no  man  can  account  for  except  on  the  supposition 
that  there  is  a  moral  government  and  a  God — he  intended 
should  be  an  hidex  of  guilt — and  in  a  novice  in  iniquity 
it  is  so.  The  eye — tremulous,  and  abashed,  and  turning 
away — he  intended  should  betray  the  secret  wickedness 
of  the  soul — a  fact  also  which  no  one  can  account  for 
except  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  a  God.  The  trem- 
bling frame,  the  hand  palsied  by  the  consciousness  of 
crime  when  raised  to  commit  a  deed  of  wickedness,  he 
designed  should  reveal  the  guilty  purpose  of  the  soul.  See 
a  brow  calm,  and  an  eye  serene,  and  a  frame  composed, 
and  a  hand  steady,  and  a  walk  erect  and  firm,  and  you 
are  struck  with  the  indications  of  conscious  innocence. 
The  reverse  indicates  guilt.  Now,  one  great  art  in  this 
world  is  to  obliterate  the  natural  marks  of  guilt  from  the 
human  frame,  and  to  counterfeit  the  indications  of  inno- 
cence. The  object  is  so  to  train  the  eye  that  it  will  not 
reveal  the  secret  conviction  of  crime  ;  so  to  discipline  the 
cheek  that  it  will  betray  the  guilty  by  a  sudden  rush 
of  blood  there ;  so  to  fortify  the  hand  and  the  frame  that 
they  will  not  by  trembling  disclose  the  purposes  of  the 
soul.  One  of  the  first  lessons  which  the  guilty  attempt 
to  learn  is  this ;  a  lesson  most  difficult,  and  yet  sometimes 
learned  with  great  skill.  That  young  man  when  he  leaves 
his  father's  house  to  go  to  the  theatre  or  to  the  gambling 
room,  or  to  associate  with  the  vile,  begins  at  once  to  study 
how  he  may  control  his  eye  and  his  cheek,  as  well  as  his 
words,  in  such  a  manner  that  they  will  not  betray  him. 
— Nature  would  reveal  the  deed  as  soon  as  he  comes  into 
the  presence  of  his  father  or  mother,  if  he  would  allow 


SECRET    FAULTS.  301 

her  to  speak  out ;  but  he  wishes  to  put  on  the  appearance 
of  innocence,  and  to  be  able  to  tell  a  lie  as  if  it  were  the 
truth.  That  young  man  when  he  first  pilfers  the  drawer  of 
his  employer,  would  betray  the  act  the  next  moment  if 
he  were  to  allow  nature  to  speak  out,  and  did  not  put  the 
eye  and  the  cheek  under  discipline  that  they  should  not 
betray  him.  That  man  who  has  commenced  a  career  of 
fraud  and  villany ;  who  abuses  his  trust,  and  perverts  or 
abstracts  public  funds,  would  betray  himself  at  once  if 
he  would  allow  his  nature  to  speak  out.  But  he  drills 
and  disciplines  himself,  and  his  eye  is  calm,  and  his  coun- 
tenance is  taught  to  be  composed,  and  he  speaks  and  acts 
as  if  he  were  an  innocent  man,  and  buries  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  crime  deep  in  the  recesses  of  the  soul.  Soon 
the  brow  is  like  brass,  and  the  frame  is  schooled  not  to 
betray,  and  the  living  indexes  of  guilt  which  God  had 
affixed  to  the  body  are  obliterated,  and  the  conscience  is 
seared,  and  the  whole  man  has  departed  from  the  beauti- 
ful form  which  God  made,  and  has  become  an  artificial 
and  a  guilty  thing. 

Again.  The  arts  of  polished  and  refined  life,  to  a  me- 
lancholy extent,  have  the  same  object.  They  are  so 
arranged  as  to  conceal  rancor,  and  envy,  and  hatred,  and 
the  desire  of  revenge.  They  aim  not  to  eradicate  them, 
but  to  conceal  them.  I  speak,  of  course,  not  of  all ;  not 
I  trust  of  the  principal  efforts  which  are  made.  I  trust 
there  is  a  much  more  pure  and  deviated  code  of  morals 
among  those  who  belong  to  the  community  called  ^  the 
world,'  than  there  once  was.  Lord  Chesterfield,  who 
once  gave  absolute  law  to  the  fashionable  world,  and 
who  was  characterised  by  Johnson  as  '  teaching  the  mo- 
rals of  a  Avoman  of  infamy,  and  the  manners  of  a  dancing- 
master,'  led  the  way  in  this  system  of  hypocrisy  and 
deception.  He  liimself  was,  not  inappropriately,  one  of 
the  first  victims  of  the  system.  A  favorite  young  man — 
an  adopted  son — to  whom  he  wrote  his  celebrated  letters, 
and  on  whom  he  lavished  every  possible  means  of  educa- 
tion, was  one  of  the  first  to  conceal  his  own  ^  secret  fault' 
in  the  marriage  of  a  woman  with  whom  a  connection 
would  have  never  met  with  his  approbation,  and  with  a 
sad  and  betrayed  heart  he  lived  to  see  that  no  confidence 
could  be  placed  in  his  own  hollow  system.     Yet  who  is 

2Q 


302  PRACTICAL  SERMONS. 

Ignorant  that  the  arts  of  poUshed  Hfe  are  often  assumed 
for  the  most  base  purposes,  and  that  with  all  that  educa- 
tion can  give,  and  all  that  accomplishment  can  furnish, 
man  can  '  smile,  and  smile,  and  be  a  villain  still  ?'  It  is 
alleged  not  seldom  that  there  are  hypocrites  in  the  church, 
and  I  do  not  deny  that  there  may  be.  But  there  are 
hypocrites  and  deceivers  elsewhere  than  in  the  church, 
and  there  is  many  a  concealed  purpose,  many  a  secret 
fault  in  the  bosoms  of  those  *  graced  with  polished  man- 
ners and  fine  sense,'  who  have  assumed  an  outward  guise 
the  better  to  impose  on  the  world. 

(2.)  Many  secret  sins  are  concealed  because  there  is 
no  opportunity  of  carrying  the  purpose  into  execution. 
The  plan  is  laid,  but  some  unforeseen  occurrence  prevents 
the  execution  of  it,  and  it  is  abandoned.  In  some  in- 
stances it  may  be  cherished  for  years,  and  is  not  abandon- 
ed until  the  last  hope  of  carrying  it  into  eifect  fails.  A 
man  forms  a  purpose  of  revenge,  and  pursues  it  from 
year  to  year,  and  looks  out  for  an  opportunity  to  gratify 
it,  until  all  hope  fails,  and  then  it  is  abandoned.  Or,  hi 
more  cases  still,  the  plan  is  arrested  by  death,  and  the 
man  dies  with  his  wicked  scheme  unaccomplished.  In 
the  aggregate  of  the  sins  of  this  world,  the  number  of 
unfinished  plans  of  evil  is  not  small ;  the  number  of  those 
who  are  hurried  into  eternity  with  their  plans  unexecuted 
is  not  few,  and  no  man  who  forms  such  a  plan  knows  but 
that  he  will  be  hurried  away  while  his  scheme  of  iniquity 
is  just  ripening  No  one  knows,  in  the  mysteriousness 
of  sudden  deaths,  how  many  a  just  and  merciful  God 
takes  away  for  the  very  purpose  of  arresting  an  unexe- 
cuted scheme  of  evil,  and  of  saving  the  innocent  from  the 
wiles  of  the  destroyer. 

(3.)  Many  faults  are  secret,  because  the  individual  has 
never  been  placed  in  circumstances  to  develop  his  cha- 
racter. He  has  innate  propensities  to  evil  of  which  he 
is  unconscious,  and  which  would  be  soon  developed  if  he 
were  placed  in  a  favorable  situation  to  show  what  he  is. 
No  small  part  of  the  virtue  of  this  world  is  the  result  of 
circumstances.  It  is  external  and  artificial.  It  does  not 
reach  and  control  the  heart.  It  is  formed  by  education  ; 
or  it  takes  its  form  from  the  prevalent  opinions  in  society ; 
or  it  is  a  matter  of  convenience  or  policy.    Beneath  it 


SECRET    FAULTS.  303 

there  is  latent  evil  never  yet  brought  out,  and  corruption 
which  has  never  been  exposed.  No  one  of  us  knows 
what  we  would  be  if  we  were  so  situated  in  life  as  to 
reveal  exactly  wliat  we  are.  And  none  of  us,  therefore, 
should  pride  ourselves  on  our  own  supposed  virtue,  nor 
should  we  harshly  judge  our  guilty  fellows.  They  may 
have  shown  what  they  are ;  we  may  have  a  nature  quite 
as  corrupt  as  they,  and  yet  while  they  have  wrecked  cha- 
racter, and  hope,  and  peace  by  their  vices,  we  may  be 
congratulating  ourselves  on  our  own  purity,  and  priding 
ourselves  on  our  integrity.  ^'  Let  him  that  thinketh  he 
standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall." 

(4.)  Connected  with  this  we  may  observe,  t?iat  the  re- 
straints of  society  conceal  many  a  fault,  and  hide  it  from 
public  view.  The  germ  of  the  evil  exists ;  and  when  a 
favorable  opportunity  presents  itself,  it  is  manifested. 
The  restraints  around  a  young  man  in  a  refined  family  or 
neighborhood,  often  guard  him.  The  authority  of  a 
father  ;  the  mild  influence  of  a  motiier ;  the  society  of  a 
sister,  or  the  courtesies  of  life  in  the  society  in  which  he 
moves,  preserve  him.  In  a  distant  city,  or  in  a  foreign 
land,  how  different  the  fact  in  regard  to  him  !  There  the 
tendency  of  the  heart  is  developed,  and  in  scenes  of 
amusement  and  sin  the  restraints  of  morality  and  of  reli- 
gion he  alike  disregarded  and  renounced. 

Such  are  some  of  the  ways  in  which  the  faults  of  the 
soul  are  concealed.  Who  is  there  that  is  not  conscious 
that  he  has  himself  such  secret  faults  ?  Who  is  there  that 
has  not  been  training  himself,  though  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, to  conceal  them  ?  Who  is  there  that  has  not  feel- 
ings and  plans  that  he  is  not  willing  to  disclose — not 
merely  because  he  believes  that  another  one  has  not  a 
right  to  break  in  upon  the  secresy  of  his  own  feelings 
and  views,  but  because  he  knows  they  are  wrong  ?  If 
the  wish  of  some  of  the  old  philosophers  that  every  man 
should  have  a  glass  in  his  bosom  could  be  realized,  how 
few  would  venture  out  in  the  streets  at  noonday  !  What 
confusion,  and  blushes,  and  attempts  at  concealment  would 
it  produce  in  any  promiscuous  assembly  !  How  would 
the  busy  world  seek  the  shades  of  night,  and  our  houses 
be  dens  where  we  would  seek  to  hide  ourselves  !  There 
is  not  a  man  among  us  that  would  be  willing  to  have  his 


304  PRACTICAL    SEKMONS. 

thoughts  for  a  smgle  week — the  purest  week  of  his  Vife — 
written  down  and  read  to  an  assembly  like  this.  For  the 
truth  of  this,  I  appeal  to  every  man's  own  consciousness. 
And  if  this  be  truth,  then  what  is  the  human  heart  ! 
What  is  man  !  And  with  what  propriety  may  each  one 
urge  the  prayer  of  the  text,  and  say,  "  Cleanse  thou  me 
from  secret  faults." 

III.  I  proceed,  in  the  third  and  last  place,  to  state  some 
reasons  why  we  should  pray  to  be  delivered  from  secret 
faults.     I  remark, 

(1.)  We  should  do  it  because  we  specially  need  the 
grace  of  God  to  overcome  thern.  1  presume  most  of  us 
who  have  made  the  attempt  to  subdue  the  inborn  pro- 
pensities of  our  nature  to  evil,  have  become  entirely 
satisfied  of  our  impotency  in  such  an  undertaking.  Our 
external  conduct  we  can  better  guard  and  secure.  The 
restraints  of  education,  of  our  professions,  and  of  society, 
aid  us  much.  Our  calling  may  lead  us  into  the  circles  of 
the  refined  and  the  pure ;  our  profession  may  be  such  as 
shall  constrain  us  to  act  on  the  principles  of  honesty  and 
honor ;  our  whole  success  in  life  may  be  dependent  on 
our  external  probity  and  consistency.  To  foil  into  open 
sin,  in  such  circumstances,  is  rare  ;  and  the  prospect  of  it 
is  not  so  great  as  seriously  to  alarm  a  virtuous  mind.  I 
beheve,  indeed,  that  it  is  only  by  the  grace  of  God  that 
we  can  be  kept  in  the  paths  of  external  morality^  and 
I  put  no  great  confidence  in  that  untried  and  untempted 
virtue  which  is  confident  of  a  power  to  stand  by  itself; 
but  still  there  arc  helps  for  the  promotion  of  that  virtue 
in  the  very  frame-work  of  a  well-organized  society,  on 
which  we  may  place  some  reliance.  But  what  protec- 
tion against  secret  sins  is  there  around  the  human 
heart  ?  Who  knows  it  so  well  that  he  can  guard  tbe 
approaches  to  it  ?  Who  can  so  well  describe  or  under- 
stand the  delicate  laws  of  its  associations  as  to  be  able 
to  defend  it  from  unholy  thoughts  ?  Wlio  can  arrest  the 
passage  of  that  flitting  unholy  thought  that  comes  from 
you  know  not  where,  and  is  brought  you  know  not  how, 
and  that,  however  brief  may  be  its  stay,  always  leaves 
pollution  behind  it  ?  Who  can  safely  analyze  the  laws 
of  his  own  mind  in  regard  to  evil,  and  arrest  and  hold  the 
train  of  polluted  images  long  enough  to  know  how  to 


SECRET    FAULTS.  305 

guard  against  them  in  future,  without  danger  of  finding 
a  guilty  pleasure  in  the  contemplation,  and  desiring  to 
retain  them  ?  Who  can  arrest  that  tide  of  evil  recollec- 
tions that  comes  pouring  like  a  flood  into  a  man's  bosom 
from  the  remembrances  of  his  past  life  ?  Who  can  of  him- 
self break  the  subtle  chain  of  associated  evil  thoughts,  or 
by  an  act  of  volition  make  a  polluted  mind  pure  ?  And 
who — for  I  believe  there  is,  and  was,  and  is  to  be  such 
an  agency — who  can  foresee  the  approach  of  the  great 
tempter,  and  shut  up  the  avenue?  of  the  heart  against  him, 
and  make  his  fiery  darts  rebound  ?  It  is  not  in  feeble  hu- 
man nature  to  be  successful  alone  in  this  warfare,  and  he 
who  has  but  once  made  the  experiment,  will  feel  the  pro- 
priety of  applying  to  God  to  help  him.  More  distressed 
and  troubled  by  far  at  these  secret  faults  than  at  the  danger 
of  external  derilection  from  duty  ;  more  downcast  and  sad 
at  the  triumph  which  sin  gets  over  him  than  from  losses 
of  property  or  health  ;  more  anxious  for  purity  of  heart 
than  for  gold,  yea,  than  much  fine  gold,  he  will  feel  the 
necessity  of  looking  to  the  Great  Source  of  purity  and 
strength  for  aid.  For  often  the  sadness  on  a  man's  coun- 
tenance is  not  from  losses  and  the  cares  of  this  life  ;  not 
from  the  death  of  friends,  or  failure  of  business  ;  it  is 
from  this  internal  war — this  heavy  load — these  fiery  ar- 
rows— these  secret  faults — these  unholy  imaginings — 
these  distressing  inroads  made  by  intruding  plans  of  evil 
on  his  peace.  '  0  what  would  not  I  give,'  may  express 
the  language  of  not  a  few,  ^  for  one  day  of  perfect  purity 
— one  day  without  an  improper  emotion,  or  an  unholy 
feeling — one  day  when  1  should  think,  and  speak,  and 
act  just  as  I  ought  to — one  day  like  that  of  an  angel ; — 
like  a  day  of  the  life  of  Jesus  ;  like  the  passing  moments 
of  the  ever-blessed  God.  For  such  a  day  of  purity  I 
would  part  with  all  earth's  gilded  baubles,  and  sacrifice 
the  most  brilliant  schemes  that  this  world  can  furnish. 
How  sweet  would  sleep  be  at  the  close  of  such  a  day  ! 
How  blessed  to  live — to  awake  again  to  repeat  it,  and 
to  walk  with  God  in  perfect  holiness.  0  come  that 
blessed  day  when  my  heart  shall  be  thus  pure  ;  and  when 
I  shall  sigh  no  more  at  night  over  the  recollected  errors 
and  secret  faults  of  the  day,  and  when  I  shall  feel  that 
my  easily-besetting  sins  shall  torture  my  bosom  no  more  !' 

26* 


306  PRACTICAL    SEIIMONS. 

(2.)  Such  secret  faults  are  peculiarly  offensive  to  God, 
and  we  should,  therefore,  pray  to  be  cleansed  from  them. 
The  guilt  of  the  wicked  plan  is  not  annihilated  or  dimi- 
nished in  the  view  of  the  Searcher  of  hearts,  because  he 
chooses  to  arrest  it  by  his  own  Providence,  or  because  he 
never  allows  the  sinner  the  opportunity  of  accomplishing 
it.  Indeed  the  guilt  of  a  long-cherished  plan  of  evil, 
though  it  is  never  executed,  may  be  much  greater  in  his 
sight  than  an  outbreaking  of  sudden  passion,  or  a  sudden 
yielding  to  temptation.  Many  an  open  act  of  sin  is  mo- 
mentary, and  then  is  over.  Wrath  kindles  in  the  eye, 
and  then  as  soon  dies  away.     It  is  the  passion  of  one, 

"  That  carries  anger,  as  the  flint  bears  lire, 
Which  much  enforced,  shows  a  hasty  spark, 
And  straight  is  cold  again." 

But  the  plan  of  revenge,  the  proud  and  obstinate 
temper,  the  purposes  of  infamy,  may  be  long  cherished, 
and  will  constitute  in  fact  the  real  character  of  the  man. 
That  will  be  far  more  hateful  in  the  sight  of  God  than 
the  sudden  burst  of  passion,  or  the  solitary  act  of  intem- 
perance, or  even  the  deed  of  blood,  for  these  may  be  the 
result  of  temporary  excitement.  So  of  forgotten  crime.  It 
has  passed  away  from  your  recollection.  But  though  the 
specific  act  has  passed  away  from  your  remembrance,  yet 
its  effects  have  not.  It  left  a  withering  and  a  bhghting 
influence  on  your  soul.  You  are  a  less  happy  man,  and 
a  less  pure  man  than  you  would  have  been  had  it  not 
been  for  the  secret  fault,  though  that  may  have  been  long 
since  forgotten.  As  fire  that  passes  through  the  forest, 
leaves  long  desolation  when  the  flame  is  extinguished, 
so  has  been  the  withering  effects  of  sin  on  your  soul — 
and  God  sees  that  soul  scathed  and  blasted  by  the  in- 
dwelling of  former  sinful  thoughts  and  feelings. 

(3.)  And  I  add,  finally,  that  we  should  pray  for  this, 
because  if  secret  faults  are  indulged,  they  will  sooner  or 
later  break  out  like  smothered  fires,  and  the  true  charac- 
ter of  the  heart  will  be  developed.  Fires  uncap  a  moun- 
tain because  they  have  been  long  accumulating,  and  can 
be  confined  no  longer.  Streams  that  flow  far  under 
ground,  somewhere,  though  far  from  the  fountain,  make 
their  way  to  the  surface.     Disease  that  is  long  in  the 


SECRET    FAULTS.  307 

system,  and  that  flows  round  and  round  in  tlie  blood,  will 
at  some  time  manifest  itself,  and  so  it  is  with  the  corrup- 
tions of  the  heart.  They  cannot  always  be  concealed, 
and  God  designs  that  they  shall  not  always  be.  It  is 
well,  under  the  divine  administration,  that  the  true  state 
of  the  heart  should  be  made  manifest,  and  that  it  should 
be  seen  what  man  is.  Accordingly,  few  things  are  more 
common,  than  such  sudden  developments  of  character, 
and  outbreakings  of  the  secret  faults  of  the  soul.  We 
are  often  shocked  by  such  cases,  and  our  philosophy 
about  man  seems  to  fail,  and  we  are  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  the  instances  of  sudden  depravity  that  appal  the  com- 
munity. A  man  of  fair  character,  and  enjoying  universal 
confidence,  becomes  suddenly  a  public  defaulter.  A  cler- 
gyman is  guilty  of  some  crime  that  shocks  the  moral  sense 
of  mankind.  A  man  of  supposed  regular  habits  becomes 
suddenly  intemperate.  A  man  clothed  with  power,  like 
Arnold,  betrays  his  trust,  and  attempts  to  sell  his  country. 
A  judge  on  the  bench,  like  Bacon,  shocks  the  world  by  the 
undisputed  fact  that  he  has  been  bribed.  The  community 
is  horror-stricken,  and  we  feel  for  the  moment  like  dis- 
trusting every  man,  and  doubting  all  virtue  and  all  piety, 
and  we  are  almost  led  to  conclude  that  all  our  estimates  of 
human  character  on  which  we  have  heretofore  acted  are 
false — and  we  ask,  not  improperly,  who  is  safe  ?  In  wliom 
can  we  confide  ?  And  we  begin  to  distrust  every  clergy- 
man, and  every  officer,  and  every  man  of  supposed  in- 
tegrity and  good  morals  in  public  life,  and  every  judge 
on  the  bench. 

But  these  painful  disclosures  are  not  departures  from 
the  great  principles  of  human  nature.  There  is  a  maxnn 
in  law,  that  no  one  suddenly  becomes  eminently  vile.* 
These  melancholy  lapses  into  sin  are  but  exponents  of 
the  real  character  of  the  man ;  the  regular  results  of  a 
long  course  of  guilt ;  the  regular  outbreakings  of  secret 
faults — like  the  breaking  out  of  the  volcano,  or  lik'e  the 
tumblhig  down  of  a  bowing  wall,  or  the  fall  of  a  house 
that  has  been  long  undermined  by  secret  streams.  In 
the  case  of  the  clergyman  who  becomes  unprincipled  and 
vile ;  who  shocks  our  moral  sense,  and  degrades  himself 

•  Nemo  repente  turpissimus. 


308  TRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

and  his  high  calhng  by  some  pubUc  and  shameful  offence, 
we  are  not  to  suppose  that  this  is  a  sudden  fault  or  crime. 
There  has  been  a  long  previous  preparation.  There  has 
been  a  relaxing  of  the  high  sense  of  obligation,  and  of 
the  sacredness  of  his  calling ;  there  has  been  a  train  of 
evil  thoughts,  and  unholy  imaginings ;  there  has  been  an 
indulgence  in  guilty  wishes,  and  the  rovings  of  an  im- 
pure eye  and  imagination  ; — there  has  been  a  neglect  of 
secret  prayer  and  of  communion  with  God — and  God 
suffers  him  to  fall,  not  merely  to  mark  his  detestation  of 
the  open  crime,  but  of  the  long  train  of  evil  thoughts 
that  have  led  on  at  length  to  so  painful  a  catastrophe. 
The  man  who  has  betrayed  his  trust,  and  who  shocks  the 
community  by  some  stupendous  crime  as  a  public  de- 
faulter, we  are  not  to  suppose  has  been  led  by  sudden 
temptation  into  the  sin,  or  that  the  act  which  now  amazes 
us  is  a  solitary  act.  Back  of  that,  there  has  been  a  series 
of  secret  faults  that  have  been  accumulating  like  pent  up 
waters,  and  that  now  burst  forth  in  an  enormous  act  of 
guilt  that  sweeps  away  every  thing  that  is  valuable  in  his 
character,  and  that  is  peaceful  in  his  domestic  circle. 
The  man  who  betrays  his  country,  as  Arnold  sought  to 
do,  does  not  perform  such  a  deed  by  one  act  of  sudden 
temptation.  Far  back  in  guilty  pleasures,  in  extrava- 
gance of  living,  in  secret  dissatisfaction  with  his  com- 
mander or  his  country,  in  disappointed  ambition,  envy, 
malice,  or  covetousness,  is  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
enormous  crime,  and  the  act  of  treason  is  just  the  expo- 
nent  of  the  man's  secret  guilt.  And  the  judge  on  the 
bench  who  disregards  the  purity  of  the  ermine,  and  who 
sells  justice  for  a  bribe,  does  not  do  this  deed  alone.  It 
is  the  result  of  secret  crimes  and  guilty  desires,  of  a  weak- 
ened sense  of  honor  and  obligation,  of  habitual  contem- 
plation of  plans  of  evil,  until  the  strength  of  guilt  surpasses 
his  sense  of  honesty  and  honor,  and  he  falls  to  rise  no 
more.  And  so  our  cherished  secret  faults  will  yet  mani- 
fest themselves  unless  they  are  checked  and  removed  by 
the  grace  of  God,  and  by  the  blood  of  the  atonement.  In 
a  pure  heart  only  are  we  safe.  The  indulgence  in  unholy 
thoughts,  and  impure  imaginings,  and  in  the  contemplation 
of  guilty  pleasures,  no  man,  no  matter  what  his  rank  or 
standing  or  external  character,  is  safe.     We  are  safe  only 


SECRET    FAULTS.  309 

when  in  the  smcerity  of  our  hearts,  and  in  the  deep  con- 
sciousness of  internal  corruption  and  great  feebleness,  we 
can  Uft  our  eyes  habitually  to  heaven,  and  say,  "  Cleanse 
us  from  secret  faults,  keep  us  back  from  presumptuous 


REMARKS. 

(1.)  Who  can  understand  his  errors  ?  Who  knows  wliat 
man  is?  Who  knows  himself ?  We  look  upon  the  fair 
exterior,  the  polished  manners,  but  who  knows  what  is 
in  the  heart  ?  A  man  of  forty  feels  that  he  knows  much 
less  of  himself  than  he  supposed  he  did  at  twenty ;  and 
increasing  years  only  serve  to  astonish  him  with  the  great 
deep  of  depravity  in  the  human  soul.  His  own  heart  is 
more  and  more  an  enigma ;  and  his  observation  of  his 
own  feelings  teach  him  more  and  more  to  distrust  him- 
self. We  look  on  men  high  in  office  and  in  public  confi- 
dence, we  see  them  on  an  eminence,  and  a  halo  of  glory 
seems  to  be  around  their  heads,  and  then  we  see  them 
suddenly  fall  into  irretrievable  ignominy,  and  we  instinc- 
tively ask,  who  is  safe  ?  Who  is  next  to  fall  ?  Who  can 
be  safely  and  wholly  trusted?  We  weep  over  their  fall. 
Let  the  effect  be  to  lead  us  more  and  more  to  distrust 
ourselves,  and  to  put  our  trust  in  God. 

(2.)  We  should  be  humble.  The  fall  of  others,  and 
our  own  conscious  sinfulness;  our  deeds  of  forgotten 
guilt  and  our  half-executed  plans  of  evil,  should  make  us 
humble.     "  Oh,  why  should  mortal  man  be  proud  V^ 

'Follies  and  crimes,  a  countless  sum, 
Are  crowded  in  life's  little  span; 
How  ill,  alas,  does  pride  become 
That  erring,  guilty  creature,  man  !" 

Our  career  has  done  but  little  to  lift  us  up  Avith  pride 
in  its  recollection  ;  and  our  own  course  of  life  should 
produce  any  other  feeling  than  self-congratulation  in  the 
retrospect. 

(3.)  We  have  much  to  dread  at  the  revelations  of  the 
day  of  judgment.  Those  secret  faults  of  the  sinner  wiU 
be  brought  out  to  noon-day  then.  God  will  bring  every 
secret  thing  into  judgment.  You  have  labored  long  and 
hard  to  conceal  your  purposes.     You  have  supposed  that 


310  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

the  darkness  of  night  might  hide  them.  You  have  con- 
gratulated yourself  in  the  belief  that  they  were  unknown 
by  the  world.  But  there  has  been  one  eye  upon  you  and 
your  sins — one  eye  that  has  never  been  turned  av/ay  by 
day  or  by  night ;  and  there  has  been  a  book  of  record  where 
every  word,  and  thought,  and  feeling  has  been  written 
down  ;  and  there  is  one  mind  that  remembers  all.  Sinner^ 
for  every  evil  thought,  for  every  impure  desire,  for  every 
deed  of  darkness,  for  every  half-formed  plan  of  evil,  you 
are  to  give  account  to  God.  0  what  a  scene  will  be  exhi- 
bited on  the  great  day  of  trial !  Who  can  bear  the  revela- 
tions of  that  day  ?  Who  of  you  conld  bear  to  have  your 
past  lives  and  feelings  all  drawn  out  and  exposed  in  letters 
of  living  light  to  this  congregation  ?  Who  is  there  here 
that  would  not  call  on  the  mountains  to  shelter  him,  and 
the  hills  to  cover  him,  at  the  prospect  of  such  a  revelation  ? 
Not  one.  With  no  consciousness  of  sinfulness  but  such  as 
I  believe  common  to  man ;  with  the  recollection  of  the 
general  aim  of  my  life  to  do  right ;  with  great  occasion  for 
thanksgiving  that  I  have  been  preserved  from  the  open 
vices  that  have  ruined  so  many  who  began  the  career  of; 
life  with  me,  yet  I  confess  to  you,  that  if  there  is  any  thing 
that  I  should  more  than  all  other  things  dread,  it  would  be 
that  the  record  of  all  my  thoughts  and  feelings  should  be 
exhibited  to  the  assembled  universe  in  the  last  day. 
That  the  universe  would  acquiesce  in  my  condemna- 
tion on  such  a  revelation,  I  have  no  manner  of  doubt. 
And  if  there  is  any  one  thing  for  which  I  desire  to  give 
unfeigned  thanks  more  than  others,  it  is  that  through  the 
blood  of  Christ,  those  sins  may  be  blotted  out ;  and  that 
through  the  infinite  mercy  of  God  the  secret  sins  of  which 
I  am  conscious,  may  never — no  never — be  disclosed  to 
assembled  worlds. 


SERMON  XXI. 

PREPARATION    TO    MEET    GOD. 
Amos  iv.  12.     Prepare  to  meet  thy  God. 

From  these  impressive  and  solemn  words,  I  propose  to 
give  an  answer  to  the  following  enquiries  : 

I.  To  whom  may  the  command  be  considered  as  ad- 
dressed ? 

II.  Why  should  a  preparation  be  made  to  meet  God? 

III.  In  what  way  are  we  to  prepare  for  it  ?  and 

IV.  When  should  it  be  done  ? 

I.  To  whom  may  the  command  be  considered  as  ad- 
dressed ?  The  general  answer  to  this  enquiry  is  obvious. 
It  is  to  be  regarded  as  addressed  to  all  those  who  have 
made  no  preparation  for  meeting  God ;  I  mean  those  who 
have  never  made  this  a  specific  and  settled  part  of  their 
plans,  or  who  have  not  devoted  their  attention  to  it  so 
as  to  have  that  done  which  is  needful  to  be  done.  Tliis 
class  comprises  a  large  portion  of  the  human  family ;  a 
large  portion  of  those  to  whom  the  gospel  is  preached. 
The  idea  is,  that  they  have  done  nothing  which  can  be 
considered  as  having  been  performed  with  reference 
to  the  future  interview  with  their  final  Judge.  They 
have  done  many  things — and  done  them  very  well — with 
reference  to  other  matters,  but  they  have  done  nothing 
with  a  distinct  desire  and  intention  to  be  prepared  to 
stand  at  his  bar. 

This  general  description  comprises  several  classes  who 
may  be  regarded  as  especially  addressed. 

(1.)  Those  who  have  designedly  crowded  the  whole 
subject  from  their  minds,  and  who  have  been  unwilling 
to  bestow  any  thought  on  it  as  a  personal  matter.  They 
may  have  listened  respectfully  to  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel ;  or  they  may  have  bestowed  some  attention  on 
religion  as  a  speculative  enquiry,  but  they  have  inten- 
tionally resisted  all  its  appeals  to  them  personally.  When- 
ever they  have  reasoned  or  conversed  on  the  subject  of 

311 


312  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

religion,  it  has  been  with  an  intention  that  it  should  make 
no  persona]  impression  on  them.  They  have  never  allow- 
ed the  warnings  and  appeals  of  truth  to  have  any  direct 
bearing  on  themselves ;  nor  in  the  whole  course  of  their 
hves  have  they  ever  done  one  thing  with  a  distinct  and 
simple  intention  to  be  prepared  to  meet  God.  They 
have  done  nothing  which  cannot  be  accounted  for  on 
some  other  supposition,  and  they  are  conscious  that  they 
have  never  spent  one  lialf  hour  in  their  lives  in  doing  any 
thing  with  a  sole  desire  to  be  prepared  to  meet  their 
Maker. 

(2.)  This  description  embraces  also  tliose  who  have 
deferred  the  subject  with  an  intention  to  prepare  at  a 
future  time.  They  have  some  sense  of  the  importance 
and  necessity  of  making  preparation.  They  see  and  ad- 
mit that  something  more  is  to  be  done  than  has  been  done. 
It  is  not  their  design  that  it  shall  be  wholly  neglected. 
But  they  have  deferred  doing  what  is  necessary  to  be 
done — whatever  they  may  suppose  that  to  be  — to  a  future 
period  ; — one  till  he  shall  have  finished  his  education  ; 
another  till  he  shall  be  more  at  leisure,  and  less  burdened 
with  cares  ;  another  to  a  bed  of  sickness  ;  another  to  old 
age,  or  the  hour  of  death.  Whatever  may  be  the  mo- 
tives which  lead  them  to  delay  it ;  or  whatever  may  be 
their  views  of  what  is  necessary  to  be  done,  they  agree 
in  this,  that  it  is  not  yet  done,  and  that  a  preparation  is 
yet  to  be  made. 

(3.)  There  are  embraced  in  this  general  class,  also, 
those  who  have  spent  their  time  in  preparing  for  other 
things,  so  as  to  crowd  this  subject  out,  though  without 
any  specific  or  settled  intention  to  do  so.  They  have  been 
anxious  to  get  ready  for  this  life,  and  they  have  uncon- 
sciously, almost — or  thoughtlessly,  at  any  rate — neglected 
a  preparation  for  a  life  to  come.  At  one  time  they  have 
been  occupied  in  preparing  for  a  journey  or  a  voyage — 
and  then  it  was  crowded  from  the  mind.  Or  the  youth 
has  been  fitting  for  college,  or  for  a  profession  ;  or  the 
young  female  has  been  engaged  in  acquiring  skill  in 
music,  or  solid  learning,  or  preparing  to  adorn  the  refined 
circle  ;  or  the  young  man  has  been  preparhig  to  be  a 
merchant,  or  a  mechanic ;  and  a  preparation  to  meet 
God  has  been — not  exactly  Avith  design,  but  insensibly 


PREPARATION    TO    MEET    GOD.  313 

neglected.  It  has  not  come  before  his  mind  as  a  matter 
of  distinct  enquiry,  what  is  necessary  to  be  prepared  to 
meet  God,  as  it  has  what  is  necessary  to  prepare  him  to 
act  his  part  well  in  Ufe — or  if  it  has,  it  has  been  a  mo- 
mentary suggestion,  and  the  solution  has  been  deferred  to 
a  future  period,  and  he  is  now  unprepared. 

(4.)  The  general  description  embraces,  also,  those  who 
have  given  some  slight  attention  to  the  subject,  but  who 
have  settled  down  on  that  which  will  in  fact  constitute 
no  preparation  when  they  come  to  appear  before  God. 
They  are  relying  on  some  delusive  views  and  hopes ; 
some  erroneous  doctrine,  or  opinions ;  some  vague,  un- 
settled, and  unsubstantial  feelings ;  something  that  is  dif- 
ferent from  what  God  has  declared  to  be  essential  to  a 
preparation  to  meet  him.  It  is  immaterial  to  my  purpose 
what  that  may  be ;  nor  will  I  run  the  risk  of  exciting 
prejudice  against  what  I  am  yet  to  say,  by  attempting  to 
specify  what  I  mean.  The  general  remark  is  all  that  is 
needful  here — that  it  is  not  every  thing  which  will  pre- 
pare a  man  to  meet  God.  On  some  things  we  should 
agree — on  others  we  might  differ.  We  should  agree  that 
it  is  not  a  man's  height  or  color ;  not  beauty  or  strength  ; 
not  talent  or  learning ;  not  wealth  or  adorning ;  not  ex- 
ternal accomplishmeiits  or  professional  eminence  ;  not 
splendid  mansions  or  equipage,  that  constitute  a  prepara- 
tion to  meet  God.  We  might  differ  as  to  the  point  whe- 
ther amiableness  and  honesty ;  whether  a  fair  character 
and  a  life  of  integrity;  whether,  if  we  do  right  to  men, 
though  we  neglect  our  Maker,  some  or  all  of  these  things 
would  be  a  sufficient  preparation.  It  is  not  needful  to 
argue  that  point  here.  The  general  observation  will  be 
undisputed — that  there  is  something  which  is  required  to 
prepare  us  to  meet  God,  and  that  it  is  possible  that  we 
may  be  depending  on  something  else  rather  than  on  what 
God  demands.  If  it  is  not  beauty  that  is  required,  it  is 
something  else  ;  if  it  is  not  wealth,  it  is  something  else  ; 
if  it  is  not  accomplishment,  it  is  something  else ;  if  it  is 
not  amiableness,  it  is  something  else  ;  if  it  is  not  external 
morality,  it  is  something  else  ;  and  we  may  be  mistaking 
that  which  is  not  required  for  that  which  is.  But  in  such 
a  case  it  is  clear  that  there  would  be  in  fact  no  preparation 
to  meet  God. 

27 


314  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

These  classes,  it  will  be  seen  at  once,  embrace  a  large 
portion  of  the  human  family.  What  with  those  who 
intentionally  crowd  the  whole  subject  from  the  mind,  and 
those  who  designedly  postpone  it  to  a  future  period,  and 
those  who  in  preparing  for  other  things  neglect  a  pre- 
paration to  meet  God,  and  those  who  make  a  false  pre- 
paration— in  the  church  and  out  of  it — no  one  can  doubt 
that  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  community  is  em- 
braced. For  the  most  solemn  and  important  moment  of 
existence  no  preparation  is  made,  and  the  mass  of  men 
live  as  if  it  Avere  never  to  occur.  The  use  to  be  made  of 
this  fact  belongs  to  another  part  of  this  discourse.  I  pro- 
ceed to  the 

II.  Second  point  of  my  discourse — to  show  why  pre- 
paration should  be  made  to  meet  God.  Why  may  it  not 
be  left  without  special  solicitude  as  an  event  where  pre- 
paration would  be  needless  ?  The  answers  to  this  question 
will  probably  at  once  occur  to  every  reflecting  mind  ;  but 
though  obvious,  they  are  such  as  in  the  hurry  and  bustle 
of  life  we  are  prone  to  forget,  and  I  will  recall  some 
of  them  to  your  recollection.  They  are  such  as  the  fol- 
lowing. 

(1.)  Because  it  is  to  be  our  first  interview  with  him, 
face  to  face.  Here  we  do  not  see  him.  We  attempt  to 
trace  the  proofs  of  his  existence  in  his  w^orks,  and  look 
"  through  nature  up^  to  nature's  God" ;  or  we  listen  to 
his  commands  and  threatenings  in  his  word.  But  he  is 
imseen  still,  and  the  conception  is  faint  and  obscure.  "  No 
man  hath  seen  him,  or  can  see  him  and  live."  We  trace 
along  the  proofs  of  his  existence  in  his  works  from  point 
to  point ;  but  we  do  not  see  God.  We  stretch  our  eyes 
over  the  vast  ocean,  and  see  the  proof  that  he  is  great ; 
but  we  do  not  see  God  in  the  distance.  We  follow  the 
lightning's  rapid  flash  as  the  clouds  are  covered  with  a 
blaze  of  light ;  but  that  flash  does  not  enable  us,  through 
the  openings  of  the  clouds,  to  see  God.  We  seize  the 
telescope  and  point  it  to  the  heavens,  and  look  on  rolling 
worlds,  and  penetrate  into  the  unfathomable  abyss  where 
no  numbers  can  compute  the  distance  ;  but  still  amidst 
those  distant  v/orlds  and  systems  we  have  not  seen  God. 
We  close  our  eyes  in  prayer,  and  address  the  invisible 


PREPARATION    TO    MEET    GOD.  315 

and  the  great  God,  and  attempt  to  form  in  our  imagina- 
tions an  image  of  what  he  is ;  but  we  have  not  seen  him. 
When  we  die  we  shall  meet  him  face  to  face.  It  will  be 
the  first  interview  where  the  veil  of  flesh  and  sense  will 
not  obscure  the  vision  ;  and  for  such  an  interview  with 
the  Almighty  God  man  should  be  prepared. 

(2.)  We  should  make  preparation  because  we  shall 
meet  him  in  very  solemn  circumstances.  It  will  be  away 
from  friends ;  from  the  body ;  from  the  familiar  scenes 
with  which  we  have  been  conversant  here.  It  will  be 
when  we  shall  be  alone  with  God.  It  will  be  the  next  act 
that  shall  succeed  the  solemn  act  of  dying.  A  man  who 
is  to  meet  God  as  soon  as  he  dies,  should  make  some  pre- 
paration for  it.  If  he  were  to  meet  him  on  a  lonely 
mountain,  like  Moses,amidst  clouds  and  tempests— though 
he  had  left  many  friends  at  the  base — as  he  clambered  up 
its  steep  ascent,  he  would  feel  that  he  ought  to  be  pre- 
pared for  that  solemn  interview.  How  much  more  when 
he  leaves  his  friends  weeping  around  his  pale,  lifeless  body; 
when  he  travels  alone  and  disembodied,  the  untrodden, 
dark  way  up  to  God ;  when  he  goes  there  without  a  friend 
or  an  advocate  ;  when  he  goes  to  come  back  no  more  ! 

(3.)  We  should  make  preparation  because  we  go  there 
on  a  very  solemn  errand.  We  go  there  not  as  idle  spec- 
tators ;  not  to  behold  the  glory  of  the  divine  dwelling 
and  throne ;  not  as  we  often  travel  to  other  lands  to  see 
the  works  of  nature,  or  the  monuments  of  art ;  but  we 
go  on  the  final  trial,  and  with  reference  to  the  irreversi- 
ble doom  of  the  soul.  A  man  who  is  soon  to  be  put  on 
trial  for  his  life,  fe^ls  that  much  must  be  done  with  refe- 
rence to  that  important  day  in  his  existence ;  and  makes 
the  preparation  accordingly.  Every  thing  about  the  kind 
of  testimony  on  which  he  can  rely  ;  every  thing  in  the 
law,  in  the  character  of  the  judge  and  of  the  jury,  be- 
comes to  him  a  matter  of  moment,  and  he  loolss  it  all 
over  with  most  anxious  solicitude.  He  who  should  have 
the  prospect  of  such  a  trial  before  him,  and  who  should 
evince  the  same  unconcern  on  these  points  which  the 
mass  of  men  do  in  reference  to  their  trial  before  God, 
would  be  regarded  as  a  fool  or  a  madman.  Should  we 
go  into  his  cell  and  find  him  engaged  in  blowing  up  bub- 


316  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

bles,  or  in  some  other  trifling  employment,  manifesting 
the  utmost  indifference  to  all  that  we  could  say  of  the 
character  of  the  judge  or  jury,  or  to  the  importance  of 
being  prepared  for  the  arraignment,  we  should  regard 
him  as  bereft  of  the  characteristics  of  a  rational  being. 
On  the  issue  of  that  interview  with  God  depends  every 
thing  that  is  dear  to  us  hereafter.  There  will  not  be  a 
moment  in  all  that  boundless  eternity  before  us  which 
will  not  be  affected  by  the  results  of  that  day's  investiga- 
tion. To  us,  it  will  be  the  most  solemn  moment  of  our 
existence — a  period  to  be  remembered  in  all  the  days  of 
our  future  being — as  it  should  be  anticipated  with  anxious 
solicitude  in  all  the  days  that  precede  it. 

(4.)  We  should  make  preparation,  because  he  has 
solemnly  commanded  it.  With  the  utmost  clearness  and 
solemnity,  he  has  required  us  to  be  ready.  No  part  of 
the  Saviour's  instructions  was  more  plain  and  solemn  than 
to  make  this  the  first  business  of  life.  Every  thing  else 
was  to  give  way  to  it.  Not  even  love  to  a  parent ;  not 
the  care  of  a  family  ;  not  the  duty  of  hospitality  to  friends  ; 
not  even  attendance  on  the  funeral  obsequies  of  a  deceased 
relative  were  to  interfere  with  this.  First  in  our  affec- 
tions; first  in  our  efforts,  we  were  to  seek  God; — and 
whatever  else  was  neglected,  that  was  not  to  be  deferred 
for  one  moment.  My  friend,  you  value  yourself  on  the 
fact  that  you  are  not  an  open  violater  of  the  law  of  God. 
You  do  not  worship  idols ;  you  do  not  profane  the  name 
of  God ;  you  do  not  curse  father  and  mother ;  you  are 
not  a  murderer,  an  adulterer,  a  thief,  a  liar.  But  here  is 
a  command  as  positive,  as  direct,  as  solemn,  and  I  add  as 
important  as  any  one  of  these — a  command  which  you 
are  habitually  and  of  design  neglecting.  It  is  not  mere 
counsel  or  advice  ;  it  is  the  solemn  coTnmand  of  the  Most 
High,  to  be  ready  to  meet  him,  to  be  prepared  to  give  up 
your  account,  to  be  fitted  for  the  final  trial,  to  settle  the 
great  question  of  the  soul's  salvation  as  \}l\q.  first  thing  in 
life.  No  one  can  doi^bt  that  he  meant  to  be  understood 
as  saying  that  this  is  his  first  claim  on  the  heart,  and 
that  your  first  duty  is  there. 

(5.)  We  should  make  preparation  to  meet  him,  because 
when  we  are  brought  before  him  it  will  be  too  late  to  do 


PIIEPARATIOX    TO    MEET    GOD.  317 

what  is  necessary  to  be  done.  The  path  up  to  the  judg- 
ment-seat is  not  a  way  of  preparation ;  nor  at  his  bar  is 
it  a  place  to  prepare  for  eternity.  It  is  no  time  to  prepare 
for  battle  when  the  enemy  is  in  the  camp ;  no  time  to 
make  ready  to  meet  a  foe  when  he  has  broken  open  your 
door.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  putting  off  preparation 
until  it  is  too  late.  A  man  may  neglect  the  care  of  his 
health,  until  it  is  too  late.  A  student  may  suffer  the  pro- 
per time  to  prepare  for  a  profession  to  glide  away,  until 
it  is  too  late.  A  farmer  may  neglect  to  ])lough  and  sow, 
until  it  is  too  late.  A  man  on  a  rapid  stream  near  a 
cataract  may  neglect  to  make  efforts  to  reach  the  shore, 
until  it  is  too  late.  And  so  in  religion.  It  is  easy  to  put 
it  off  from  childhood  to  youth ;  from  youth  to  manhood; 
from  manhood  to  old  age,  until  it  shall  be  too  late.  Be- 
yond that  interview  with  G-od,  there  is  no  preparation. 
Your  eternity  is  not  to  be  made  up  of  a  series  of  successive 
probations,  where,  though  yon  fail  in  one,  you  may  avail 
yourself  of  another.  There  is  but  o}ie  probation — 0  how 
short ;  how  fleeting ;  how  soon  gone  !  The  shuttle  of  the 
weaver  flies  not  swifter ;  nor  do  the  shadows  move  more 
rapidly  over  the  plain.  Each  day  leaves  the  number 
less  —and  not  one  of  them  can  be  recalled.  Life  is  passed 
through  not  to  be  travelled  over  again ;  and  each  foot- 
print is  made  to  be  seen  by  us  no  more.  He  that  comes 
after  us  may  track  our  way  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  beach 
where  the  ocean  of.  eternity  rolls ;  he  may  see  step  after 
step  in  the  sand — till  he  comes  to  the  last  print,  half 
washed  away  b)^  the  tide,  where  we  plunged  into  the  vast 
ocean  and  disappeared  forever.  Yon  go  not  back  again. 
This  day,  this  hour,  you  live  but  once — and  this  setting 
sun  will  have  taken  one  irrecoverably  from  the  allotted 
days  of  your  probation.  I  wonder  at  man.  The  earth 
is  our  place  of  probation — and  it  is  (/// — literally,  abso- 
lutely cil/.  In  that  probation,  if  ever,  you  and  I  arc  to  be 
prepared  for  that  vast  eternity  on  which  we  enter  in  a  few 
days.  If  not  prepared  then,  we  are  never  to  be  prepared. 
Point  me,  fellow-mortal,  to  the  slightest  proof  whatever, 
or  to  the  slightest  presumption— I  will  not  ask  for  proof — 
that  another  season  of  probation  is  to  be  granted  to  you 
beyond  the  judgment  of  the  great  day,  and  I  will  never 
urge  this  point  again.     Bnt  if  there  is  none,  ray  dying 


318  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

fellow-man,  you  ought  to  be  prepared  to  meet  God.  It  is 
not  a  thing  of  privilege,  it  is  a  thing  of  obligation.  Yonr 
conscience,  your  reason,  your  sober  judgment  all  respond 
to  the  claim  which  I  urge  upon  you,  that  yoti  should  be 
ready  to  meet  God.  You  who  have  adopted  it  as  a  set- 
tled purpose  that  you  will  not  enter  a  profession  without 
being  prepared  for  it ;  you  who  will  not  appear  in  the 
gay  assembly  without  hours  spent,  under  skilful  hands,  at 
the  toilet,  that  you  may  be  prepared  for  it,  ought  to  be 
prepared  to  appear  before  God.  You  ought  to  have 
on  a  brighter  than  any  earthly  array ;  you  ought  to  have 
on  the  garments  of  salvation — the  pure  and  spotless  robes 
wrought  by  the  "  Redeemer's  hands  and  dyed  in  his 
blood."  Not  as  you  are  now,  sinful,  unforgiven,  gay, 
worldly,  thoughtless,  ambitious,  should  you  stand  before 
the  great  and  pure  Jehovah  to  receive  the  sentence  which 
will  seal  your  eternal  doom. 

III.  I  proceed,  in  the  third  place,  to  show  what  is  ne- 
cessary to  be  done  in  order  to  be  prepared  to  meet  God.  I 
shall  do  this  in  the  fewest  words,  and  in  the  plainest 
manner  possible. 

I  would  observe  then,  that  mere  bravery  or  courage  is 
not  a  preparation  to  meet  God.  The  soldier  meets  "the 
cannon's  mouth ;  the  duellist  meets  his  foe  on  the  field  ; 
the  strong  man  meets  danger  without  shrinking ;  the  dying 
man  on  a  bed  of  pain  summons  all  his  strength,  and  nei- 
ther trembles  nor  is  alarmed — and  bravely  dies.  Strong 
in  physical  courage,  his  cheek  is  not  blanched  with  fear, 
nor  do  his  knees  tremble  at  the  approach  of  danger;  and 
friends  and  eulogists,  patriots  and  historians,  send  the 
brave  man  to  heaven.  But  I  take  it,  God  is  not  to  be 
met  with  mere  bravery  or  heroism.  It  is  not  physical 
courage  that  is  to  carry  the  point  against  the  Almighty. 
The  battery  may  be  approached  by  the  brave  man ;  mur- 
derer may  meet  murderer  in  the  field,  and  look  each  other 
in  the  eye  without  quailing,  but  this  is  not  the  way  in 
which  man  is  to  meet  God— face  to  face,  and  eye  to  eye. 
Nor  are  courage,  and  defiance,  and  the  fearless  bearing 
which  faces  the  cannon's  mouth,  that  by  which  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  to  be  taken.  The  conquests  of  Caesar, 
Alexander,  Napoleon,  and  Nelson  stopped  far  this  side 


PREPAUATION    TO    MEET    GOD.  319 

the  eternal  throne ;  nor  will  bravery  ever  make  an  inn- 
pression  on  the  Almighty  God. 

Not  more  is  he  prepared  to  meet  God  who  bids  defi- 
ance to  death  ;  who  can  jest  at  the  dying  pang ;  who 
summons  all  his  vigor  to  maintain  his  infidel  principles  to 
the  last,  and  who  secures  the  eulogium  from  his  friends, 
'  He  died  like  a  man.  He  shrank  not ;  he  feared  not ;  he 
trembled  not ;  and  firm  in  his  principles  and  integrity,  he 
died  like  a  man.'  Like  a  man,  exactly: — a  proud,  self- 
confident,  sinful  man.  He  has  his  reward.  Some  friend 
will  rear  a  stone  over  his  tomb,  or  pen  a  lying  obituary 
notice  that  assures  the  world  that  he  has  gone  to  heaven ; 
and  the  lying  epitaph  shall  delude  hundreds,  while  his 
soul  shall  be  in  hell.  But  God  is  not  thus  deceived.  Nor 
does  forced  and  unnatural  calmness,  or  miserable  stupi- 
dity at  the  approach  of  death,  beguile  him  with  the  belief 
that  the  man  proud  as  Lucifer,  though  in  death,  has  a 
claim  to  an  admission  to  heaven.  The  indecent  jesting 
of  Hume  when  he  died  did  not  move  God  any  more  than 
the  ravings  and  blasphemies  of  Paine  or  Voltaire.  Nor 
is  a  studied  insensibility  in  death  the  proper  preparation 
to  meet  God.  Insensibility  is  not  what  God  has  any 
where,  either  by  reason  or  his  word,  required.  It  is  no 
more  manly  than  it  is  religious,  to  be  insensible  at  the 
prospect  of  appearing  at  the  bar  of  God.  He  who  can 
sport  on  death's  brink,  and  laugh  at  the  idea  of  being 
brought  on  trial  before  the  eternal  bar,  or  cultivate  a 
studied  insensibility  at  the  idea  of  eternity,  has  no  more 
the  spirit  of  a  man  than  he  has  of  a  Christian.  It  is  a  place 
where  man  ought  to  feel ;  where  God  meant  he  should 
feel  ;  and  where  all  his  nature  commands  him  to  feel. 

What  is  then  necessary  to  prepare  us  to  meet  God  ? 
I  answer, 

(1.)  It  is  necessary  to  be  reconciled  to  him.  No  one 
is  prepared  to  meet  him  to  whom  he  is  a  stranger  or  a 
foe.  No  one  can  be  prepared  to  meet  him  who  has  been 
at  no  pains  to  enquire  into  his  character,  or  who  has 
never  sought  to  please  him.  No  one  can  be  prepared  to 
meet  him  who  has  resisted  his  claims,  and  who  has  during 
his  life  put  himself  into  an  attitude  of  hostility  to  him. 
The  man  who  has  made  it  a  point  to  resist  every  impres- 
sion which  God  would  make  on  his  heart ;  to  crowd  from 


320  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

his  mind  all  the  appeals  which  He  lias  made  to  him  ;  to 
have  as  little  to  do  with  him  as  possible ;  never  to  think 
of  him  if  he  could  avoid  it,  and,  when  it  could  not  be 
avoided,  to  think  of  him  only  as  severe,  and  harsh,  and 
vmjust  in  his  claims,  is  assuredly  not  prepared  to  meet  him. 
Could  he  avoid  it,  he  never  would  meet  him.  Had  he 
his  own  choice,  he  would  prefer  never  to  think  of  him 
again.  But  in  order  to  meet  him  in  peace,  it  is  needful 
that  the  heart  be  reconciled  to  him.  Enmity  must  be 
laid  aside.  He  must  be  regarded  as  a  friend ;  and  what- 
ever there  is  in  the  heart  of  hostiUty  to  him,  or  of  dissatis- 
faction with  his  government  and  claims ;  whatever  dispo- 
sition there  is  to  disregard  or  oppose  him,  must  be  laid 
aside.  No  man  can  be  prepared  to  meet  him  who  in 
form  or  in  fact,  in  heart  or  in  public  conduct,  regards  him 
as  an  enemy.  When  we  come  to  stand  before  God  we 
shall  wish  to  look  on  hmi  as  a  friend,  and  not  as  an 
Almighty  Foe.  Hence,  with  the  utmost  propriety,  the 
whole  of  the  gospel  is  regarded  as  an  exhortation  to  men 
to  be  reconciled  to  God.     2  Cor.  v.  19,  20. 

(2.)  It  is  necessary  in  order  to  be  prepared  to  meet  God, 
to  be  born  again ;  to  be  renewed  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  A 
higher  than  man — he  who  is  to  decide  our  eternal  destiny 
— has  settled  this  without  any  ambiguity.  "  Verily,  verily, 
I  say  unto  thee,  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  John  iii.  3.  No  matter 
what  else  a  man  may  have,  imless  he  has  experienced 
this  change,  he  will  be  excluded  from  heaven.  It  would 
be  impossible  to  make  a  statement  more  explicit,  or  more 
alarming  to  large  classes  of  men.  The  heart  is  deceitful. 
It  betrays  itself.  And  it  is  on  this  point  constantly  prac- 
tising a  deception.  You  do  not  mean  to  be  regarded  as  in- 
fidels— and  you  are  not ;  you  are  not  disposed  to  be  ranked 
with  scoffers ;  you  are  not  disposed  to  be  the  open  enemy 
of  any  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible ;  but  Aere  there  is  a 
constant  delusion  playing  around  the  heart,  and  a  secret 
and  most  withering  unbelief  of  the  words  of  the  Saviour. 

*  You  must  be  born  again,'  is  the  Redeemer's  language, '  or 
you  cannot  be  saved.'     Yet  the  feeling  of  the  heart  is, 

*  there  may  be  an  exception  in  my  case.  My  character  for 
integrity  or  amiableness  is  such  that  it  cannot  be  indis- 


PKEPARATION    TO    MEET    GOD.  321 

pensable  for  me,  and  the  heart  is,  unconsciously  ahnost, 
substituting  something  in  place  of  the  new  birth.  You 
do  not  depend  on  the  fact  that  you  have  been  born  again 
as  the  evidence  that  you  will  be  saved.  You  depend  on 
something  else — something  which  iwyour  case  will  render 
such  a  change  unnecessary.  And  when  you  think  of 
meeting  God,  it  is  not  with  the  evidence  that  the  heart 
has  been  changed,  but  with  something  else  that  may  then 
answer  the  purpose,  or  may  be  substituted  in  its  stead. 

(3.)  There  must  be  true  repentance  for  sin,  and  true 
faith  hi  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  On  this  point,  no  one 
here  will  doubt  whatare  the  teachings  of  the  Bible.  "  He 
that  belie veth  and  is  baptized  shall  be  saA^cd,  and  he  that 
believed  not  shall  be  damned."  No  declarations  can 
possibly  be  more  explicit  than  those  which  occur  respect- 
ing the  necessity  of  repentance  and  faith.  They  are 
addressed  to  all  classes  of  mankind ;  they  admit  of  no 
exceptions.  The  man  who,  in  the  fair  sense  of  the  word, 
is  a  true  penitent,  and  has  true  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  is 
prepared  to  meet  God ;  the  man  who  is  not  a  penitent, 
and  who  has  not  that  faith,  is  not  prepared  to  meet  him. 
He  may  be  prepared  for  other  things,  but  he  is  not  pre- 
pared for  that  hour  when  he  will  stand  at  his  bar.  He 
may  be  prepared  to  adorn  a  profession  ;  to  charm  in  the 
social  circle  ;  to  preside  on  a  bench  of  justice  ;  to  occupy 
an  exalted  office ;  to  go  as  an  ambassador  to  foreign 
courts ;  but  he  is  not  prepared  to  meet  his  Maker.  He 
may  be  rich,  honored,  beloved,  talented,  learned,  but  he  is 
not  ready  to  meet  God.  You  may  be  amiable,  accom- 
plished, admired,  flattered,  but  you  are  not  prepared  to 
meet  God.  For  the  truth  of  this,  I  plant  my  foot  not  on 
human  reasoning  or  conjecture ;  not  on  philosophy  or 
fancy ;  but  on  the  authority  of  the  Bible. 

The  sum  of  what  I  say  is  this :  To  be  prepared  to 
meet  God,  we  must  comply  exactly  with  what  he  requires. 
We  must  meet  his  terms.  It  is  not  what  we  would  have 
supposed  would  constitute  a  preparation ;  it  is  not  Avhat 
we  may  fancy  will  answer  the  purpose ;  it  is  not  Avhat 
we  may  choose  to  substitute  in  its  place.  Arsenic  will 
not  supply  the  place  of  bread  in  supporting  life,  or  oil 
the  place  of  water  in  putting  out  a  fire ;  nor  will  amia- 
bleness,  and  accomplishments,  and  learning,  and  external 


322  PRACTICAL   SERMONS. 

morality  supply  the  place  of  what  God  requires.  You 
can  find  no  substitute  for  reconciliation  with  God.  You 
can  find  no  declaration  that  you  may  be  saved  by  mo- 
rality, or  amiableness,  or  integrity,  and  that  /  must  be 
saved  by  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus.  You  can  find  no  evi- 
dence that  you  may  be  saved  by  an  upright  life,  and  by 
your  rank  in  society,  and  the  poor  and  the  down-trodden 
only  by  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus.  God  makes  no  such 
distinctions  among  mankind.  There  are  no  such  classes 
and  grades  in  his  kingdom.  There  are  no  royal  paths  to 
heaven.  There  are  but  two  classes  of  people  on  earth — 
the  righteous  and  the  wicked.  There  are  but  two  paths 
that  mortals  travel — the  way  to  heaven  and  the  way  to 
hell.  There  are  but  two  places  at  the  judgment  bar — 
the  right  and  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge.  There  are  but 
two  worlds  beyond — heaven  and  hell — one  the  abode  of 
the  penitent  and  believing — the  other  of  the  impenitent 
and  the  unbelieving.  There  are  no  Elysian  fields — where 
the  proud,  the  gay,  the  fashionable,  the  impenitent  may 
dwell — fields  of  fancy,  of  amusement,  of  poetry,  of  the 
dance  and  the  song — or  realms  of  irreligious  literature 
and  science,  where  those  may  dwell  who  do  not  like  to 
retain  God  in  their  knowledge. 

No  one  ever  need  to  have  made  any  mistake  on  this 
point.  If  any  one  is  ignorant  of  what  is  necessary  in 
order  to  enter  heaven,  it  is  his  own  fault.  It  is  not  need- 
ful that  any  one  should  live  without  hope ;  it  is  not  need*- 
ful  that  any  one  should  meet  God  unprepared.  So  plain 
is  the  account  of  this  matter  in  the  Bible  that  he  may  run 
that  reads ;  and  if  any  man  comes  to  a  bed  of  death  un- 
prepared, he  does  it  with  his  eyes  open.  There  is  not  a 
child  here  who  cannot  tellAvhat  is  needful  to  be  prepared 
to  meet  God ;  and  I  am  not  mentioning  any  neio  thing  to 
you  when  I  remind  you  that  what  you  are  relying  on  for 
salvation  is  not  v/hat  God  requires.  Your  amiableness 
is  not  the  love  of  God.  Your  morality  is  not  religion. 
Your  accomplishments  are  not  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  Your 
pride  of  heart  and  character ;  your  dependence  on  your 
own  righteousness,  is  not  repentance.  Your  indifference 
to  religion  is  not  the  peace  resulting  from  reconciliation 
with  God ;  your  cultivated  stoicism  when  you  think  of 
death,  is  not  the  Christian  victory  over  the  grave.     Phy- 


PREPARATION    TO    MEET    GOD.  323 

sical  and  moral  courage  ;  the  bravery  which  defies  death, 
is  not  the  qualification  with  which  to  meet  God. 

IV.  It  remains  only  to  add  a  remark  on  the  fourth  point 
proposed — the  enquiry  when  we  should  prepare  to  meet 
God.^  You  anticipate  what  I  would  say.  You  know 
what  is  the  requirement  in  the  Bible  on  that  point.  You 
have  heard,  to  painful  satiety,  the  arguments  and  com- 
mands which  require  us  to  do  it  now; — to  attend  to  it 
to-day ;  to  defer  it  no  longer.  You  are  familiar  with  the 
fact  tliat  the  Bible  requires  it  to  be  done  at  once ;  that  it 
demands  that  every  tiling  else  should  give  way  for  that ; 
that  this  day  may  end  your  probation,  and  that  there  is 
slender  probability  that  preparation  v/ill  be  made  on  a 
dying  bed.  I  might  content  myself  with  laying  this  com- 
mand across  your  path — '  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God.'  I 
might  go  to  the  Bible,  and  bring  appeals  and  commands 
almost  without  number,  all  pressing  the  point,  'Prepare 
to  meet  thy  God.'  I  might  take  you  to  the  sinner's  death- 
bed, and  describe  his  ^^Y^w%  horrors,  and  pointing  you  to 
that  sad  scene,  say  to  you,  '  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God.'  I 
might  ask  you  to  recall  the  cases  of  sudden  death — when 
the  young,  the  vigorous,  and  the  lovely,  die — and  pointing 
you  to  their  solemn  warnings,  say,  '"  Prepare  to  meet  thy 
God.'  I  might  ask  you  to  go  and  walk  among  the  tombs  ; 
to  measure  the  length  of  the  graves  there,  to  find  out  whe- 
ther any  die  as  young  as  you  ;  or  to  recall,  as  you  stand 
there,  the  image  of  some  dear  departed  friend,  or  the  last 
accents  and  warnings  of  a  mother,  and  say  to  you  in  that 
solemn  scene, '  Young  man,  prepare  to  meet  thy  God.'  Or 
I  might  attempt  a  description  of  the  scenes  of  the  last  day 
— of  the  rising  dead  ;  of  the  descending  Saviour  ;  of  the 
throne  of  judgment ;  of  the  alarm  and  horror  of  the  sin- 
ner there ;  of  the  awful  doom  which  awaits  him — and, 
standing  by  anticipation  amidst  these  solemn  scenes, 
might  say,  '  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God.'  I  had  thought 
of  a  different  line  of  remark  with  which  to  close  my  ap- 
peal. I  had  thought  of  making  your  own  sentiments 
speak  out,  and  of  exhibiting  the  reasoning  which  is  pass- 
ing through  your  mind ;  and  when  the  command  comes, 
*  Prepare  to  meet  God,'  I  had  thought  to  say  to  you,  as 
you  say  to  yourself,  '  No — do  not  obey  it  now.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  it  is  for  you.     It  is  for  that  miserable 


324  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

wretch — the  outcast  of  society.  It  is  for  that  profane 
and  drunken  man.  It  is  for  the  miserable  heathen  ;  that 
poor  slave ;  the  weather-beaten  seaman ;  the  prisoner 
doomed  to  die ;  the  profligate  young  man ;  the  bold 
blasphemer.  It  cannot  be  for  you,  so  amiable,  so  up- 
right, so  moral.  Regard  it  not — at  least  now.  Enjoy 
that  party  which  you  have  in  anticipation;  go  into  that  gay 
circle  where  God  is  forgotten  ;  refuse  to  be  found  among 
the  anxious  and  the  troubled,  who  enquire  the  way  to 
life.  Not  for  you,  so  young,  so  vigorous,  so  full  of  hope, 
so  loved,  so  anxious  to  please  all ;  not  for  you  with  such 
a  chance  of  life,  and  with  a  character  so  amiable,  can 
such  a  command  be  intended ;  not  for  you  certainly  now, 
whatever  may  be  in  future  years.  Enjoy  the  world. 
Make  much  of  it.  Drive  on  its  pleasures  and  its  gains ; 
and  forget  the  God  that  made  you,  and  forget  that  there 
is  a  Saviour  that  died  for  you,  and  that  there  is  a  grave, 
a  heaven,  a  judgment,  and  an  eternity.'  But  I  must  not 
speak  so.  Ye  young  of  either  sex ;  ye  children,  youth, 
men ;  ye  amiable,  upright,  accomplished,  moral,  there  is 
a  grave ;  a  God ;  a  heaven  ;  a  hell.  I  solemnly  warn 
you  as  a  minister  of  religion — myself  soon  to  die — to  be 
ready  for  death  ;  and  were  it  my  dying  message,  would 
say  with  the  last  lisping  accents  of  my  lips,  <  Prepare  now 
to  meet  thy  God  '  Let  not  that  sun  set,  I  solemnly  con- 
jure and  charge  you,  in  view  of  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day,  without  having  done  something — without  having  at 
least  once  prayed — that  you  may  be  prepared  to  meet 
God  ! 


SERMON  XXII. 

THE    BURDEN    OF    DUMAH. 

Isa.  xxi.  11,  12.  The  burden  of  Dumah.  He  calleth  to  me  out  of  Seir, 
Watchman,  what  of  the  night?  Watchman,  what  of  the  night]  The 
watchman  said,  The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the  night. — If  ye  will  en- 
quire, enquire  ye.     Return.     Come. 

This  is  a  single  prophecy ;  and  a  whole  prophecy.  It 
has  no  immediate  connection  with  what  precedes,  or  with 
what  follows  in  the  chapter;  and  if  it  were  taken  out  of 
the  place  which  it  now  occupies  in  the  Book  of  Isaiah, 
and  placed  in  any  other  part  of  the  Book,  or  even  of  the 
Bible,  I  do  not  see  but  it  would  be  as  intelligible  as  it  is 
now.  It  is  a  striking  spechnen  of  the  manner  of  Isaiah 
Mdien  he  is  full  of  a  subject,  and  when,  as  is  often  the 
case,  the  prophetic  \vords  flow  from  his  mouth  not  like  a 
gentle  and  fertilizing  stream,  but  like  a  torrent  that  has 
been  obstructed,  and  that  now  rushes  impetuously  over 
all  barriers.  It  is  also  a  specimen  of  his  manner  when  he 
is  ironical  or  sarcastic ;  and  when  he  designs  to  convey 
some  truth  of  vital  interest  that  shall  reach  the  heart  of  a 
taunting  enemy  of  God  and  his  cause.  The  prophecy  is 
abrupt,  concise,  enigmatical,  obscure.  It  is  probably  little 
understood  by  most  of  the  readers  of  this  wonderful  pro- 
phet, as  it  has  been  by  most  commentators.  Yet,  notwith- 
standing its  obscurity,  it  is  seen  to  be  beautiful ;  and  there 
arc  few  readers  of  tlie  Bible  who  do  not  wish  to  under- 
stand it.  It  is  capable,  I  think,  of  an  easy  explanation  ;  and 
is  adapted  to  convey  most  important  instruction  alike  to 
the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  God : — to  the  former,  when 
desponding  and  disheartened  in  view  of  personal  trials 
and  calamities,  or  in  view  of  a  persecuted  and  distracted 
church,  or  of  a  darkened  world  ; — to  the  latter,  when  they 
are  disposed  to  taunt  the  friends  of  God  ;  to  revile  them  in 
suffering ;  or  to  ridicule  their  solicitude  for  the  coming  of 
the  kingdom  of  the  Redeemer  on  earth. 

It  is  a  vital  part  of  the  Avork  of  the  ministry  to  explain 
28  225 


326  PRACTICAL  SERMONS. 

the  Scriptures,  and  to  show  not  only  that  the  Bible  is  a 
book  of  eminent  sublimity,  truth,  and  beauty ;  but  that  it 
IS  adapted  to  convey  most  valuable  instruction  and  admo- 
nition for  all  classes  of  mankind.  I  propose,  therefore,  to 
submit  an  exposition  of  this  very  obscure,  and  yet  very 
striking  prophecy ;  and  in  doing  it,  I  shall, 

I.  In  the  first  place,  endeavor  to  explain  it ;  and, 

II.  In  the  second  place,  exhibit  the  lessons  which  it 
teaches,  or  apply  it  to  the  friends  and  the  foes  of  God. 

I.  In  the  explanation  of  the  prophecy,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  go  somewhat  into  detail  in  an  examination  of  the 
words  and  phrases  of  which  it  is  composed.  I  will  pro- 
mise, however,  that  this  shall  not  be  tedious  or  uninterest- 
ing to  those  of  you  who  will  give  me  your  patient  atten- 
tion. The  prophecy  is  in  these  words:  "  The  burden  of 
Dumah.  He  calleth  to  me  out  of  Seir,  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night?  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?  The 
watchman  said,  The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the  night. 
If  ye  will  enquire,  enquire  ye.     Return.     Gome." 

(1.)  The  word  '^  burden,''^  in  the  text,  is  a  common 
word  in  the  prophecies,  and  especially  in  Isaiah,  to  denote 
a  prophetic  message,  or  an  oracle.  It  is  usually,  not 
always,  given  to  such  a  message  as  foretold  punishment 
or  calamity ;  or  such  as  was  painful  in  its  nature  and 
adapted  to  weigh  down  the  spirits.  We  have  a  similar 
idea  in  our  language,  when  we  speak  of  bad  news  as 
adapted  to  weigh  down  the  spirits ;  or  of  suffering  and 
calamity  that  is  fitted  to  oppress  the  mind.  Of  this  na- 
ture were  many  of  the  messages  which  the  prophets  were 
directed  to  bear  ; — messages  predicting  judgment  and  wo  ; 
foretelling  the  calamities  of  war,  of  the  pestilence,  or  of 
captivity, and  portraying  ruined  temples,  cities,  and  towns, 
— messages  alike  painful  to  him  who  bare  them,  and  to 
those  to  whom  they  were  addressed.  Such,  I  take  it, 
was  the  message  referred  to  here — a  message  indicating 
future  calamity  represented  by  the  word  night — Uhe 
night  cometh ;' — a  message  oppressive  and  burdensome 
to  the  prophet,  and  painful  to  the  taunting  inhabitants  of 
Dumah. 

(2.)  The  word  "  Dumah  "  in  the  text,  is  another  name 
for  Idumea,  or  the  land  of  Edom.  This  country,  settled  by 
the  descendants  of  Esau,  the  brother  of  Jacob,  stretched 


THE    BURDEN    OF    DUMAII.  327 

along  on  the  south  of  Palestme,  and  extended  as  far  as 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  by  conquest 
subsequently,  far  hito  the  land  of  Moab.  It  is  now  a  vast 
desert,  travelled  by  wandering  Arabs,  and  alike  undistin- 
guished for  agriculture  or  commerce.  Its  capital  was  in 
Blount  Seir — a  mountain  range  laying  south  of  the  Dead 
Sea,  in  a  plain  now  called  Wady  Mousa — or  the  valley 
of  Moses.  This  is  the  Mount  Seir  referred  to  in  the  text ; 
the  place  from  which  one  is  heard  calling  to  the  watch- 
man, and  enquiring  respecting  the  night.  The  reader  of 
the  popular  modern  travels  will  be  able  to  identify  this 
place  when  he  is  reminded  that  this  is  the  site  of  the 
celebrated  city  of  Petra,  so  recently  discovered  and  ex- 
plored, and  so  fully  described  by  travellers.  Its  site  is  a 
vast  hollow  in  a  mountain,  with  but  a  single  way  of 
access ;  its  structures  now  are  vast  tombs,  and  temples, 
and  theatres,  and  palaces  cut  with  infinite  toil  from  the 
solid  rock ;  its  inhabitants  are  the  dead — and  the  living 
are  not  there,  save  when  a  Bedoui  chieftain  with  his 
tribe  passes  along,  or  a  lonely  traveller  spends  a  night  in 
one  of  its  tombs. 

(3.)  Between  Dumah  or  Idumea  and  the  Jews,  there 
had  been  a  long  hostility  ;  a  hostility  coming  down  from 
the  strife  between  Jacob  and  Esau,  and  aggravated  by 
all  the  bitterness  of  a  family  quarrel.  The  hostility  was 
deepened  when  Moses  led  the  children  of  Israel  to  the 
land  of  Canaan.  The  territory  of  Edom  lay  between 
him  and  Canaan,  and  he  sent  messengers  to  the  king  of 
Idumea  to  ask  the  privilege  of  peaceably  passing  through 
the  land.  "  Let  us  pass,  I  pray  thee,"  was  the  reason- 
able request,  "  through  thy  country :  we  will  not  pass 
through  the  fields,  or  through  the  vineyards,  neither  will 
we  drink  of  the  water  of  the  wells :  we  will  go  by  the 
king's  highway,  we  will  not  turn  to  the  right  hand  nor  to 
the  left  until  we  have  passed  thy  borders."  Num.  xx.  17. 
This  reasonable  petition  was  denied.  Moses  repeated 
the  request.  "  We  will  go,"  said  he,  "  by  the  highway  ; 
and  if  I  and  my  cattle  drink  of  thy  water,  then  will  I 
pay  for  it ;  I  will  only,  without  doing  any  thing  else,  go 
through  on  my  feet."  Ver.  19.  This  repeated  and  re- 
spectful request  was  met  with  as  decided  hostility,  and 
the  armies  of  Edom  were  sent  to  guard  the  way,  and  to 


32S  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

harrass  the  Israelites  on  their  march.  Edom  soon  be- 
came the  implacable  foe  of  the  Jews.  It  formed  alliances 
with  their  enemies  ;  invaded  their  land  ;  rejoiced  in  their 
defeats,  and  triumphed  in  their  calamities.  The  imme- 
diate and  special  event,  however,  to  which  there  is  an  in- 
direct allusion  in  the  text,  was  the  unnatural  and  wicked 
exnltation  of  the  Idumeans  when  the  temple  at  Jerusalem 
was  iired,  and  the  city  was  destroyed  by  the  Chaldeans. 
Then,  when  calamity  had  come  upon  the  whole  Jewish 
nation,  and  when  all  the  sympathies  of  Edom  should 
have  been  excited  in  behalf  of  his  much  afflicted  kins- 
men, the  descendants  of  Jacob,  he  joined  in  the  exulting 
cry  of  the  Chaldeans,  and  urged  them  on  to  the  complete 
destruction  of  the  holy  city  and  the  temple.  "  Remem- 
ber, d  Lord,"  said  the  Jews  in  their  captivity,  "  remem- 
ber the  children  of  Edom  in  the  day  of  Jerusalem,"  i.  e. 
in  the  day  when  Jerusalem  shall  be  rebuilt,  "  who  said, 
Rase  it,  rase  it,  even  to  the  foundation  thereof"  Psalm 
cxxxvh.  7.  Its  enemies  they  urged  on  to  the  work  of 
deeper  destruction.  They  regarded  the  ruin  as  final  and 
complete,  and  they  exulted  over  desolate  Judea,  and  the 
captivity  of  its  inhabitants  in  Babylon. 

(4.)  This  is  the  time  to  which  the  prophecy  in  our  text 
refers.  It  was  during  the  captivity  at  Babylon,  and  near 
its  close.  The  temple  was  in  ruins,  and  the  city  and  the 
land  were  waste.  The  situation  of  their  once  beautiful 
and  much-loved  country  may  be  described  in  the  lan- 
guage of  this  same  prophet  uttering  the  words  which  the 
captives  would  use.  "  Thy  holy  cities  are  a  wilderness, 
Zion  is  a  wilderness,  Jerusalem  a  desolation.  Our  holy 
and  our  beautiful  house,  where  our  fathers  praised  thee, 
is  burnt  up  with  fire,  and  all  our  pleasant  things  are  laid 
waste."  Isa.  Ixiv.  10,  11.  This  was  the  "night" — the 
long  and  chilly  night  referred  to  in  the  text ;  the  night  of 
destruction  that  had  settled  upon  Judea ;  the  calamity 
over  which  the  dweller  in  Mount  Seir  was  disposed  still 
to  exult. 

(5.)  At  this  time,  and  in  this  state  of  things,  the  pro- 
phet represents  himself  in  vision  as  a  watchman  amidst 
desolate  Jerusalem.  It  is  night ;  a  long  night  of  calamity 
and  wo.  He  is  stationed  there  to  observe  the  approach 
of  better  times ;  the  indications  of  returning  day.     He  is 


THE    BURDEN    OF    DUMAH.  329 

looking  anxiously  to  the  East — the  direction  whence  hght 
appears,  and  whence  the  exiles  would  return  to  their 
own  land.  He  is  watching  for  the  first  ray  of  morning; 
the  first  indication  of  returning  prosperity,  and  of  restored 
peace  for  long  desolated  Jerusalem. 

(6.)  At  this  time,  and  in  these  circumstances,  a  voice 
is  heard  from  Mount  Seir,  the  capital  of  Idumea.  "  He," 
that  is,  some  one,  "  calleth  unto  me  out  of  Seir."  It  is 
the  voice  of  taunting  and  reproach  breaking  on  the  still- 
ness and  gloom  of  the  night.  *  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  ?  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  What  is  the  pros- 
pect ?  You  have  watched  long.  Is  there  any  sign  of 
day  ?  Is  there  any  ray  in  the  East  indicating  the  return 
of  better  times  ?  Is  your  patience  still  unexhausted,  as 
you  watch  on  during  the  long  night,  and  amidst  the  deso- 
late ruins  ?' 

(7.)  To  this  the  watchman  answers.  '  Yes.  There  is 
the  appearance  of  day.  The  morning  cometh.  There  is 
a  ray  in  the  East.  I  see  the  prospect  of  future  happier 
days ;  of  deliverance  from  the  exile ;  of  peace  and  hap- 
piness restored  to  the  desolate  land.  I  see  the  exiles  re- 
turn ;  the  temple  rise  in  its  glory ;  the  city  restored  to  its 
magnificence  ;  the  land  studded  with  villages  and  covered 
with  vineyards  and  with  flocks.  I  see  the  sun  of  pros- 
perity about  to  rise ;  and  I  see,  in  the  distance,  the  great 
Deliverer,  as  the  hght  and  glory  of  the  world.'  <  But,' 
he  adds  to  the  taunting  Edomite,  *  I  see  another  thing. 
I  see  night  coming  too.  I  see  times  of  calamity  and  deso- 
lation in  the  distance.  It  is  not  all  light ;  not  all  pros- 
perity for  all  people.  A  long,  black,  chilly  night  is  to 
come.  It  will  come  upon  the  land  of  Idumea.  That 
tauntmg,  scoffing  land  ;  that  land  so  hostile  to  the  people 
of  God ;  that  land  whose  inhabitants  cried  respecting  Je- 
rusalem, Rase  it,  rase  it  to  the  very  foundation,  shall  be 
enveloped  in  night,  and  covered  with  desolation.  On  that 
proud  capital,  from  which  the  voice  of  reproach  now 
comes.  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?  the  shades  of  a 
long  and  gloomy  night  are  yet  to  settle  ;  a  night  darker, 
and  more  dismal,  and  of  more  lengthened  shadows  than 
that  which  has  settled  upon  devoted  Jerusalem  and  Jndea.' 
<  Yet,'  adds  he,  ^  if  ye  will  enquire  further,  enquire  ye. 

28* 


330  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

Do  it,  and  you  shall  obtain  information.  Return,  come. 
Turn  from  your  taunts  and  revilings.  Come  with  a  hum- 
ble mind,  and  even  you  may  partake  of  the  blessings  of 
the  light  that  I  see  dawning  on  the  darkened  land.  Even 
Idumea — the  long  and  bitter  foe  of  God  and  of  his  people  ; 
Idumea — taunting  and  scoffing ;  Idumea,  now  reviling  us 
for  the  long  night  of  calamity  and  wo,  may  partake  of 
the  privileges  of  the  pure  religion  that  shall  bless  the 
land  in  the  bright  day  which  begins  to  dawn  in  the  East.' 

Such  I  take  to  be  the  meaning  of  this  brief  prophecy. 
I  proceed  now,  as  was  proposed, 

II.  In  the  second  place  to  exhibit  the  lessons  which  it 
is  fitted  to  teach,  or  to  make  a  more  particular  application 
of  it.  The  application  will  be  to  two  classes  of  men,  and 
it  will  be  found  to  contain  important  instruction  for  those 
who  are,  and  those  who  are  not,  the  friends  of  God. 
With  a  statement  of  these  lessons  my  subject  will  be 
closed. 

(1.)  We  have,  in  the  prophecy  before  us,  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  conduct  of  a  taunting  and  a  scoffing  world ; 
a  world  often  disposed  not  to  reason^  but  to  make  dey^i- 
sion  of  religion  ;  a  world  always  finding  occasions,  in 
some  peculiar  state  of  the  church,  or  in  some  aspect  of 
religion,  for  the  exhibition  of  irony  or  scorn.  *  What  of 
the  night,  watchman?  what  of  the  night?'  was  the  sar- 
castic and  contemptuous  language  of  the  bitter  foe  of 
Jerusalem,  and  of  the  nation  that  had  exulted  when  it 
fell.  Its  ruins  ;  its  desolate  temple  ;  its  dilapidated  walls  ; 
its  grass-grown  streets ;  its  broken-down  hedges ;  its 
wasted  fields,  were  the  topic  of  derision.  Carmel,  once 
a  fold  for  flocks,  and  the  splendid  plain  of  Esdraelon,  now 
run  over  with  briers  and  thorns,  and  the  nation  in  exile 
in  a  distant  land,  and  the  lonely  and  pensive  Avatchman 
looking  long,  as  was  supposed,  in  vain  for  the  return  of 
day,  furnished  then  the  topic  of  the  taunting  enquiry. 

You  Avill  not  forget  that  in  the  time  of  this  same  exile, 
the  feeliiigs  of  the  pious  were  tried  in  a  similar  manner 
in  Babylon.  I  use  their  own  pensive  and  beautiful  lan- 
guage. "  By  the  rivers  of  Babylon  there  we  sat  down ; 
yea,  we  wept  when  we  remembered  Zion.  We  hanged 
our  harps  upon  the  willows  in  the  midst  thereof  For 
there  they  that  carried  us  away  captive  required  of  us 


THE  BURDEN  OF  DUMAH.  331 

a  song;  and  they  that  wasted  us  reqnhxd  of  ns  mirth, 
saying,  Sing  us  one  of  the  songs  of  Zion.  How  shall 
we  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land  ?"  Ps.  cxxxvii. 
1—4. 

•'Along  the  banks  where  Babel's  current  flows, 

The  captive  bands  in  deep  despondence  strayed  ; 
While  Zion's  fall  in  sad  remembrance  rose, 

Her  friends,  her  children  mingled  with  the  dead. 

The  tuneful  harp  that  once  with  joy  they  strung. 
When  praise  employed  and  mirth  inspired  their  lay 

Was  now  in  silence  on  the  willows  hung, 

While  growing  grief  prolonged  the  tedious  day. 

Their  proud  oppressors,  to  increase  their  woe, 

With  taunting  smiles  a  song  of  Zion  claim ; 
Bid  sacred  praise  in  strains  melodious  flow, 

While  they  blaspheme  the  great  Jehovah's  name." 

Thus  too,  when  they  returned  again  to  their  own  land, 
and  when  they  recommenced  the  building  of  the  city  and 
the  temple,  they  furnished  a  new  topic  of  derision.  "  What 
do  these  feeble  Jews?"  said  their  scoffing  foes.  "Will 
they  fortify  themselves  ?  Will  they  revive  the  stones  out 
of  the  rubbish  which  are  burnt  ?  Even  that  which  they 
build,  if  a  fox  go  up,  he  shall  even  break  down  their  stone 
wall."  Neh.  iv.  2.  4.  No  one  can  fail  to  remember  also 
the  manner  in  which  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  Avas  met, 
and  the  scoffs  and  jeers  which  he  encountered  in  his  life 
and  at  his  death.  Wlien  argument  failed,  how  common 
was  it  to  taunt  and  revile  him  !  When  confuted  by 
reason ;  when  reproved  by  conscience  ;  and  when  losing 
their  own  power  and  popularity,  his  foes  decked  him  in 
the  cast-off  robes  of  royalty,  and  twisted  a  diadem  of 
thorns  around  his  bleeding  brow,  and  placed  a  reed  in  his 
hand,  and  made  him  the  sport  of  the  multitude.  Even 
when  he  was  on  the  cross,  they  reviled  and  taunted  him. 
"  Ah,  thou  that  destroyest  the  temple,  and  buildest  it  in 
three  days,  save  thyself  and  come  down  from  the  cross." 
Who  ever  before  or  since  reviled  a  sufferer  on  a  cross?  .Who 
ever  ridiculed  a  man  on  the  gallows  ?  And  where  else  but 
in  ridiculing  religion  do  men  lay  aside  all  the  tender  and 
kind  feelings  of  their  nature,  and  insult  the  miserable,  and 
delight  in  the  anguish  of  the  dying  ?  I  need  not  remind 
you  that  in  nearly  all  ages  the  calamities,  and  trials,  and 


333  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

hopes,  and  plans,  and  efforts  of  the  church  have  been  the 
subject  of  derision  and  merriment  by  the  world.  The 
"  Nazarenes  "  was  the  name  by  which  they  were  known 
in  ancient  times ;  and  the  name  of  Methodist  and  Puritan 
have  at  different  times  been  used  for  the  same  end ; 
until  all  such  names  have  been  made  respectable  by  the 
virtues  of  those  to  whom  they  were  first  applied  in  scorn. 
I  need  not  remind  you  that  the  Lord's  supper  has  been 
made  the  subject  of  merriment;  that  the  Bible  has  been 
travestied  by  infidels ;  that  revivals  and  missions  have 
been  the  subject  of  jesting  and  of  scorn ;  and  that  the 
slender  success  of  the  plans  of  the  church  for  the  conver- 
sion of  the  world,  have  all  been  met  with  the  spirit  of  the 
man  crying  from  Ssir,  "  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?" 
Nor  need  I  remind  you  of  a  celebrated  prophecy,  which 
has  certainly  come  to  pass,  whatever  may  be  said  of  the 
visions  of  Isaiah  and  Ezekiel  about  Babylon,  Tyre,  or 
Egypt,  "  Afid  there  shall  come  in  the  last  days  scoffers, 
walking  after  their  own  lusts,  and  saying  where  is  the 
promise  of  his  coming  ?"  2  Pet.  iii.  3,  4.  Such  scoffers 
there  have  been  ;  such  there  are ;  such  there  will  be ; 
— and  when  they  are  encountered  we  should  not  suppose 
that  any  strange  tiling  has  happened  unto  us. 

I  do  not  regard  this  as  an  age  distinguished  by  any 
means,  for  scoffing  or  reviling  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
It  may  not  be  an  age  as  distinguished  for  profound  think- 
ing as  some  others  that  have  passed,  for  men  are  too 
active,  and  too  full  of  enterprize,  to  sit  down  in  the  closet 
or  the  cloister  for  patient  and  deliberate  thought.  Still  it 
is  an  age  when  the  great  mass  of  men,  in  this  land  at 
least,  feel  and  believe  that  the  subject  of  religion  is  to  be 
treated  respectfully  ;  that  to  ridicule  the  opinions  of  others 
is  a  breach  of  politeness  if  of  no  higher  law ;  an  age  too 
when  you  can  usually  get  a  candid  hearing  for  whatever 
you  have  to  say  in  favor  of  evangelical  religion,  of  revi- 
vals, and  of  Christian  missions.  Scoffers  are  the  excep- 
tion ;  they  do  not  give  character  to  the  age.  They  are 
the  few,  not  the  many ;  the  few  marked  by  the  breach  of 
the  common  laws  of  urbanity  no  less  than  by  the  violation 
of  the  laws  of  heaven. 

Yet  there  are  some  such : — some  who,  like  the  man 
calling  from  Mount  Seir,  are  disposed  to  meet  reUgion 


THE    BURDEN    OF    DUMAII.  333 

with  taunts  and  reproaches.  You  may  meet  such  a  man 
occasionally  in  a  stage-coach  or  a  steam-boat — a  man  as 
deficient  in  sound  knowledge  and  good  breeding  as  he  is 
in  respect  for  God  ; — for  when  man  loses  his  respect  for 
his  Maker,  he  at  the  same  time  loses  his  res-pect  for  all  that 
is  commendable  and  good.  You  may  sometimes  meet  a 
young  man — bred  to  better  things,  and  with  early  oppor- 
tunities for  becoming  useful  and  respected — who  lias 
confounded  flippancy  with  manliness,  and  mistaken  con- 
tempt for  the  opinions  of  the  wise  and  great,  for  independ- 
ence of  mind — a  young  man  who  begins  by  torturing 
the  feelings  of  a  sister  and  a  mother ;  and  who  ends,  as 
all  such  young  men  will,  in  the  contempt  and  scorn  of  all 
that  is  good,  and  in  the  utter  wreck  of  character ;  for 
when  a  young  man  has  learned  to  trifle  with  the  feelings 
of  a  sister  and  a  mother,  there  is  no  step  in  the  descend- 
ing scale  of  infamy  which  he  is  not  prepared  to  take. 

Lord  Shaftesbury,  perhaps  for  the  love  of  parodox,  and 
perhaps  to  perplex  others,  held  that  '•'  ridicule  is  the  test 
of  truth  ;"  and  the  enemies  of  religion  have  not  been  slow 
to  act  on  this  precious  maxim — a  maxim  that  aided  Ga- 
lileo so  much  in  perfecting  the  telescope,  and  Newton 
in  discovering  the  laws  of  the  universe,  and  Hervey 
in  discovering  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  and  which 
has  been  just  as  valuable  in  religion  as  it  was  in  those 
sciences  !  It  has  lived  to  our  time  ;  and  it  is  accomplish- 
ing just  as  much  for  the  welfare  of  men  now  as  it  did 
m  the  possession  of  its  noble  author.  How  invaluable  a 
maxim  for  a  man  who  is  travehing  to  eternity  !  How 
easy  it  is  to  settle  every  question  about  religion  and  morals ! 
How  sovereign  a  specific  for  turning  aside  the  arrows  of  the 
king  of  terrors,  and  driving  away  the  chihs  of  death,  and 
causing  the  thunders  of  justice  around  the  throne  of  God 
to  sleep,  is  it  to  sit  down  and  deride  them  all !  How  easy 
to  be  saved,  if  the  only  condition  of  salvation  is  to  revile 
the  sorrows,  the  joys,  the  hopes,  and  the  plans  of  the 
people  of  God  ! 

(2.)  We  have  in  the  response  of  the  watchmen,  "  The 
morning  cometh,"  an  illustration  of  the  times  of  light  and 
prosperity  in  the  church  destined  to  succeed  those  of  ca- 
lamity. The  watchman  saw  the  light  in  the  distant  east. 
He  saw  the  day  breaking,  and  the  indications  of  returning 


334  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

morning.  This,  as  has  ah'eady  been  intimated,  included 
probably  two  things.  (I.)  He  saw,  in  vision,  the  exiles 
returning  to  their  own  land  ;  and,  (2.)  In  the  distant  future 
he  saw  the  glory  of  the  church  ;  its  splendor  and  prosperity 
after  the  darkness ;  its  glorious  Dehverer — the  Messiah, 
and  the  light  from  his  coming  spreading  over  all  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth.  Future  times  of  glory  should  succeed 
the  calamities  of  the  seventy  years  desolation ;  and  a 
brighter  dsij  than  any  before  was  yet  to  dawn  upon  the 
world. 

Let  us,  without  forcing  this  unnaturally,  endeavor  to 
apply  it  to  some  similar  circumstances.  It  is  not  from 
direct  prophetic  vision  that  we  shall  do  it,  but  by  the 
application  of  some  of  the  well-understood  principles  of 
the  Bible. 

We  may  apply  it  to  the  individual  Christian  in  the 
midst  of  calamity.  To  him  the  morning  cometh.  "  Weep- 
ing may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morn- 
ing." Ps.  XXX.  5.  It  is  true  of  every  individual  Christian 
that  to  him,  when  he  is  pressed  down  by  calamity  and 
sorrow,  the  morning  cometh.  Long  he  may  watch ;  and 
"hope  deferred  may  make  the  heart  sick;"  and  his  faith 
may  be  ready  to  faint,  but  still  it  is  true  that  to  him  brighter 
times  will  come,  and  on  him  the  day-star  of  hope  and 
salvation  will  arise.  Or  even  should  his  trials  continue 
till  life  shall  close,  and  should  night  follow  night  full  of 
gloom,  still  he  sees  a  light  above  in  heaven.  Beyond  the 
confines  of  all  this  darkness  his  eye  beholds  the  beams  of 
eternal  day  ;  a  world  where  the  sun  never  sets,  and  where 
light  dwells  forever  around  the  throne  of  God. 

"  There  is  a  home  for  weary  souls 

By  sin  and  sorrow  driven ; 
When  tossed  on  life's  tempestuous  shoals, 
"Where  storms  arise  and  ocean  rolls, 

And  all  is  drear  but  heaven. 

There,  faith  lifts  up  her  cheerful  eye, 

To  brighter  prospects  given, 
And  views  the  tempest  passing  by, 
The  evening  shadows  quickly  fly 

And  all  serene  in  heaven." 

Thus  too  it  is  of  the  church  universal.  In  her  darkest 
hours,  it  was  true  that  brighter  days  were  to  dawn.     Tlie 


THE    BURDEN    OF    DUMAH.  335 

eye  of  faith  could  look  forward  to  future  periods  when 
the  storms  of  persecution  would  subside,  and  the  fires  of 
martyrdom  would  go  out.  As  in  the  long  desolations  of 
wasted  Judea,  the  watchman  could  look  onward,  and  see 
the  distant  day  dawn  in  the  east,  so  it  has  always  been 
with  a  persecuted  and  afflicted  church.  The  shadows 
would  pass  away,  and  a  brighter  and  purer  light  would 
rise  upon  the  benighted  world.  So  it  is  now.  We  suffer 
not  indeed  the  evils  of  persecution.  Our  land  is  not,  like 
Judea,  laid  waste.  Our  country  is  not  a  wilderness,  nor 
are  our  temples  burned  up  with  fire.  But  there  is  often 
not  a  httle  in  the  contentions,  and  strifes  ;  the  ambition,  and 
the  crooked  policy  of  portions  of  the  church  ;  the  worldly- 
mindedness  and  the  inconsistencies  of  its  members,  to 
try  the  faith  of  those  who  love  Zion,  and  to  give  occasion 
to  the  taunt  of  the  scoffer,  and  the  raillery  of  the  profane. 
So  too  in  the  enterprize  for  the  conversion  of  the  world. 
'  What  is  the  prospect  of  its  conversion  ?'  asks  the  scoffer. 
^What  advance  has  been  made?  Who  have  been  re- 
claimed from  Pagan  darkness  ?  What  is  the  character 
of  the  converts  on  heathen  ground  ?  How  long  will  it 
be  ere  the  world  is  converted  at  the  rate  of  the  present 
efforts,  and  the  present  success?' — There  is  an  answer  to 
all  this.  As  surely  as  the  *  watchman'  saw  the  light  in 
the  east  rising  on  desolate  Judea,  so  surely  does  the  eye 
of  faith  see  the  light  of  salvation  rising  on  a  darkened 
world,  and  so  surely  can  it  be  said, '  The  morning  cometh.' 
The  night  of  sin  is  to  be  succeeded  by  a  long  bright  day. 
The  shadow  of  death  which  for  six  thousand  years  has 
stretched  over  hill  and  vale,  is  to  be  dissipated  by  the 
rising  of  the  Sun  of  righteousness.  Those  shadows  will 
roll  ofl'  from  the  earth,  as  you  have  seen  the  cloud  of  dew 
climb  up  the  mountain  side,  and  waste  away  as  the  sun 
ascended,  until  all  was  gone,  and  his  unobstructed  beams 
poured  down  on  the  world  below. 

There  is  one  thing  only  that  is  certain  in  the  future  his- 
tory of  this  world  — its  conversion  to  God  and  to  the  true 
religion  ; — and  that  is  as  certain  as  the  destruction  of 
Babylon  was  when  Isaiah  foretold  it ;  as  the  ruin  of  Tyre 
was  when  Ezekiel  said  it  would  be  a  barren  rock  on  which 
the  fisherman  should  dry  his  net ;  as  the  desolation  of  this 
same  Idumea  and  Petra  was  when  God  said  by  the  pro- 


336  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

phets,  "I  will  make  Mount  Seir  most  desolate,  and  cut 
oif  from  it  him  that  passeth  out,  and  him  that  returneth ; 
and  I  will  fill  his  mountains  with  his  slain  men ;  in  thy 
hills,  and  in  thy  vallies,  and  in  all  thy  rivers,  shall  they 
fall  that  are  slain  with  the  sword.  I  will  make  thee  per- 
petual desolations  ;"  "  the  cormorant  and  the  hittern  shall 
possess  it ;  the  owl  also  and  the  raven  shall  dwell  in  it ; 
and  thorns  shall  come  up  in  her  palaces,  nettles  and 
brambles  in  the  fortresses  thereof;  and  it  shall  be  an 
habitation  of  dragons,  and  a  court  for  owls  ;"  Ezek.  xxxv. 
7 — -9;  Isa.  xxxiv.  11.  13,  14;  as  certain  as  was  the  de- 
struction of  Jerusalem,  when  the  Lord  Jesus,  sitting  on 
the  brow  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  looking  down  on 
the  devoted  city,  said,  "  The  days  shall  come  upon  thee, 
that  thine  enemies  shall  cast  a  trench  about  thee,  and 
compass  thee  round,  and  keep  thee  in  on  every  side,  and 
shall  lay  thee  even  with  the  ground,  and  thy  children 
within  thee.^'  Luke  xix.  43,  44.  All  this,  to  the  letter, 
has  been  fulfilled.  With  equal  clearness  God  has  fore- 
told the  conversion  of  this  whole  world  to  himself. — ■ 
"  From  the  rising  of  the  sun  even  unto  the  going  down 
of  the  same,  my  name  shall  be  great  among  the  Gentiles, 
and  in  every  place  incense  shall  be  offered  to  my  name, 
and  a  pure  offering ;  for  my  name  shall  be  great  among 
the  heathen,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts."  Mai.  i.  11.  "  So 
shall  they  fear  the  name  of  the  Lord  from  the  west,  and 
his  glory  from  the  rising  of  the  sun."  Isa.  lix.  19.  "The 
earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  as  the 
waters  cover  the  sea."  Isa.  xi.  9.  "  And  the  Gentiles 
shall  come  to  thy  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of  thy 
rising.  The  abundance  of  the  sea  shall  be  converted 
unto  thee,  and  the  forces  of  the  Gentiles  shall  come  unto 
thee.  And  the  Gentiles  shall  see  thy  righteousness,  and 
all  kings  thy  glory,  and  thou  shalt  be  a  crown  of  glory  in 
the  hand  of  the  Lord,  and  a  royal  diadem  in  the  hand 
of  thy  God."  Isa.  Ix.  "  The  wilderness  and  the  soli- 
tary place  shall  be  glad,  and  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and 
blossom  as  the  rose.  The  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  be 
given  unto  it,  the  excellency  of  Carmel  and  Sharon  ;  they 
shall  see  the  glory  of  the  Lord  and  the  excellency  of  our 
God.  And  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and 
come  to  Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their 


THE  BURDEN  OF  DUMAH.  337 

heads ;  they  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and  sorrow 
and  sighing  shall  flee  away."  Isa.  xxxv.  The  duration 
of  any  existing  kingdom  or  dynasty  on  earth  is  unknown ; 
the  perpetuhy  of  any  splendid  commercial  capital  is  un- 
known ;  the  preservation  of  any  existing  civil  institutions 
is  a  point  on  which  no  one  of  the  Burkes  and  the  Can- 
nings of  the  world,  with  their  almost  prophetic  sagacity, 
can  reason  with  certainty;  but  the  conversion  of  this 
whole  world  to  God  is  as  fixed  as  his  own  throne,  and 
constitutes  tiie  only  landmark  that  is  set  up  in  the 
future. 

(3.)  In  like  manner  we  have,  in  the  response  of  the 
watchman,  an  illustration  of  a  third  important  fact — the 
night  of  calamity  that  is  coming  on  a  sinful  and  scoffing 
world.  ^  The  morning  cometh — and — also — the  night ;' 
morning,  as  I  understand  it,  to  desolate  Jerusalem  ;  night, 
long  and  chilly  night,  to  taunting  Petra  and  Idumea.  '  I 
see,'  said  the  watchman,  '  I  see  not  only  approaching 
morning,  but  also  approaching  night.  I  see  a  bright 
day  dawning  on  the  afflicted  people  of  God,  but  I  see, 
in  the  distance,  also,  the  dark  shades  of  night.  I  see 
the  friends  of  God  returning  from  exile  to  their  now  deso- 
late land,  and  a  long  career  of  glory  and  honor  before 
them.  But — I  see  night  for  their  foes;  night  for  their 
taunting  enemies ;  night  about  to  settle  on  Mount  Seir 
and  the  whole  land  of  Idumea.'  And  such  a  night ! 
What  is  Petra,  the  once  proud  capital  of  Idumea,  now? 
A  city  of  tombs ;  a  sepulchre  of  the  dead.  True,  its 
theatre  and  its  temples  are  there  engraved  in  the  eternal 
rock;  its  dv/elhngs  are  there,  sculptured  with  all  the  skill 
of  ancient  art.  But  it  is  solitary  and  still.  Ages  rolled 
by,  when  to  the  civilized  and  the  Christian  world  its  very 
site  was  unknown.  It  was  hidden  in  the  towering  rocks  ; 
and  a  night  of  centuries,  unbroken  by  one  ray  of  civili- 
zation or  prosperity,  has  rested  upon  the  whole  land  of 
Idumea.  The  foot  of  the  traveller  has  indeed  once  more 
passed  through  Idumea,  and  to  Petra.  The  wayfaring 
man  has  gone  from  a  Christian  land ;  and  what  has  he 
found  ?  He  has  found  a  city  of  the  dead ;  a  place  of 
tombs ;  a  desolate  capital  of  a  desolate  land,  as  Ezekiel 
and  Isaiah,  two  thousand  five  hundred  years  ago,  said  it 

29 


338  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

would  be.  He  has  found  no  dweller  there  ;  he  sees  no 
living  human  being  but  the  wandering  Arab  stealing 
along  among  the  habitations  of  untenanted  Petra,  and 
claiming  the  desolation  as  his  own.  "  I  would/'  said  our 
own  countryman,  Stephens,  when  there,  "  I  would  that 
the  sceptic  could  stand,  as  I  did,  among  the  ruins  of  this 
city  among  the  rocks,  and  there  open  the  sacred  book, 
and  read  the  words  of  the  inspired  penman,  written  when 
this  desolate  place  was  one  of  the  greatest  cities  in  the 
world.  I  see  the  scoff  arrested,  his  cheek  pale,  his  lips 
quivering,  and  his  heart  quaking  with  fear,  as  the  ruined 
city  cries  out  to  him  in  a  voice  loud  and  powerful  as  that 
of  one  risen  from  the  dead ;  though  he  would  not  believe 
Moses  and  the  prophets,  he  believes  the  hand-writing  of 
God  himself  in  the  desolation  and  eternal  ruin  around 
him."* 

Now,  in  this  night  of  desolation  and  ruin,  we  have  an 
illustration  of  the  night  that  is  yet  to  come  on  a  sinful  and 
scoffing  world.  What  a  place  of  prosperity  and  splendor 
— the  thoroughfare,  the  emporium  of  the  commerce  of 
the  East — was  once  that  proud  city  !  To  what  magnifi- 
cence did  it  arise  !  Yet  what  a  fall !  What  a  night !  Thus 
night  is  soon  to  settle  on  guilty  and  scoffing  man — the 
night  of  death.  It  comes — how  chilly ;  how  gloomy ; 
how  long  !  No  matter  what  the  pride,  and  wealth,  and 
talent  of  the  scoffer ;  no  matter  what  his  rank  or  his 
standing ;  yet  to  him  the  night  approaches,  and  he  must 
die.  A  few  more  days  of  prosperity  will  end  all ;  and 
the  tongue  of  the  profane  man  and  of  the  scoffer  will  be 
silent  in  the  grave.  Young  man,  or  aged  !  If  a  scoffer ; 
if  a  reviler  of  God  ;  if  a  taunter  of  father,  or  mother,  or 
sister,  for  being  a  Christian ;  if  a  reviler  of  the  church, 
or  of  the  church's  Redeemer,  I  apprize  you  that  the  day  of 
taunting  and  reviling  will  soon  cease.  I  apprize  you  that 
there  will  be  no  raillery  or  reviling  in  the  grave,  or  at  the 
bar  of  God ;  and  I  remind  you  that  it  is  equally  odious 
and  wicked  here.  Listen,  one  moment,  to  an  extract 
from  what  the  leader  of  modern  infidels — shame  that  the 
immortal  mind  has  ever  acknowledged  such  a  leader — 

♦  Travels  in  Arabia,  Egypt,  &c.  vol.  ii.  76. 


THE    BURDEN    OF    DUMAH.  S39 

has  called  "  Solomon's  jest-book.'' — "  Because  I  have 
called,  and  ye  have  refused  ;  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand, 
and  no  man  regarded ;  but  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my 
counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  reproof;  I  also  will  laugh 
at  your  calamity,  I  will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh." 
Prov.  i.  24,  25. 

Thus  too,  a  dark  night  of  calamity  and  storm  shall  come 
not  only  upon  the  individual  scoffer,  but  upon  the  whole 
wicked  world.  The  morning  of  glory  will  dawn  on  the 
church  redeemed ;  destruction  fearful  and  awful  as  in 
that  solemn  night  when  the  angel  of  death  went  through 
the  tents  of  Sennacherib,  shall  come  ;  and  the  guilty  shall 
be  doomed  to  wo.  On  all  the  wicked  the  night  of  de- 
struction comes,  as  certainly  as  destruction  impended 
over  Petra,and  Babylon,  and  Tyre,  and  Jerusalem,  when 
the  prophets  and  the  Saviour  looked  far  into  future  times, 
and  told  what  they  would  be.  The  same  prophetic  eye 
has  looked  on  the  future  doom  of  guilty  man ;  and  the 
vsame  voice  that  with  such  fearful  certainty  told  what 
Jerusalem  would  be,  has  said  "  All  that  are  in  their  graves 
shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  man  and  shall  come 
forth ;  they  that  have  done  good  to  the  resurrection  of 
life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil  to  the  resurrection  of 
damnation."  The  same  Spirit  of  inspiration  that  indited 
the  prophecy  respecting  Dumah,  has  also  caused  to  be 
recorded  these  words  :  "  The  day  of  the  Lord  will  come 
as  a  thief  in  the  night ;  in  the  which  the  heavens  shall 
pass  away  with  a  great  noise,  and  the  elements  shall  melt 
with  fervent  heat ;  the  earth  also  and  the  works  that  are 
therein  shall  be  burned  up."  2  Pet.  iii.  10.  So  certain 
as  desolation  reigns  where  once  was  proud  and  guilty 
Babylon  ;  so  certain  as  Petra  is  a  lonely  city  of  the  dead  ; 
so  certain  as  Tyre  is  a  solitary  place  where  the  fisherman 
spreads  his  net,  so  sure  is  it  that  fire  and  flame  will  spread 
over  the  hills  and  vales  of  the  earth,  and  that  final  and 
irremediable  destruction  from  the  presence  of  Jehovah 
shall  come  upon  the  guilty.  God  said  of  Dumah,  (Isa. 
xxxiv.  5.  4.  8.)  "  My  sword  shall  rush  as  if  intoxicated 
[with  wrath]  from  heaven;  behold  it  shall  come  down 
upon  Idumea,  and  upon  the  people  of  my  curse  to  judg- 
ment. And  all  the  hosts  of  heaven  shall  be  dissolved, 
and  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  together  as  a  scroll ;  for 


340  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

it  is  the  day  of  the  Lord's  vengeance."*  So  his  ven- 
geance shall  come  upon  a  guilty  world;  and  so  beneath 
his  uplifted  arm  the  wicked  shall  die. 

(4.)  There  remains  one  other  idea  on  which,  in  conclu- 
sion, I  may  make  a  remark.  The  thought  occurs  in  that 
part  of  my  text,  "  If  ye  v/ill  enquire,  enquire  ye  ;  return  ; 
come.''  Tliat  is,  if  t/ou — the  despiser  and  the  scoffer —  will 
enquire  in  an  humble  manner;  if  you  will  come  with 
proper  reverence  and  respect,  and  will  turn  from  your 
sins,  it  may  be  done.  Light  will  stream  also  along  your 
path  ;  and  the  sun  of  prosuerity  will  ride  up  your  sky, 
and  will  pour  down  his  noontide  radiance  upon  you  also. 
The  man  who  ridicules  religion  ;  he  v/ho  travesties  the 
Bible ;  he  who  makes  the  new  birth,  the  atonement,  and 
the  promise  of  heaven  the  subject  of  merriment ;  he  who 
derides  the  piely  of  a  sister  and  the  solicitude  of  a  mother 
for  his  salvation  ;  he  who  laughs  at  the  efforts  of  Christians 
to  convert  the  world ;  and  he  who  makes  a  mockery  of 
death  and  the  judgment,  even  he  may  learn  the  way  to  life, 
and  partake  of  the  much-despised  blessings  of  pardon  and 
salvation.  If  he  will  forsake  the  ways  of  derision  ;  if  he 
will  enquire  on  this  subject  in  a  manner  appropriate  to  its 
importance  ;  if  v/ith  a  candid,  humble,  docile  mind,  he  will 
approach  the  oracles  of  God,  light  shall  break  in  upon  his 
mind,  and  the  beams  of  an  eternal  morning  find  their  way 
to  his  heart.  "  The  meek  will  God  guide  in  judgment,  and 
the  meek  will  he  teach  his  way."  But  who  can  instruct 
a  scoffer  ?  Who  can  teach  that  young  man  who  is  already 
too  wise  to  be  taught  even  by  the  God  that  made  him  ? 
Who  can  instruct  him  who  is  too  wise  to  enquire;  him 
who  lives  to  deride  sacred  things ;  him  who  lives  to  make 
a  jest  of  death  and  a  mockery  of  the  judgment?  I  pity 
the  scoffer. — I  have  no  deeper  compassion  for  any  one 
of  the  misguided  sons  of  mortality  than  I  have  for  that 
ill-informed  and  misdirected  young  man  v/ho  is  too  wise 
to  learn  where  Newton  learned,  and  too  proud  to  bow 
where  Bacon  bowed  his  mighty  mind  ; — for  that  unhappy 
and  wretched  man — standing  over  the  grave,  and  near 
the  bar  of  Almighty  God,  who  lives  to  make  derision  of 

*  For  the  propriety  of  this  translation,  I  may  be  permitted,  perhaps,  to 
refer  the  reader  to  my  Notes  on  Isaiah  on  this  place. 


THE  BURDEN  OF  DUMAH.  341 

the  agony  of  the  Saviour,  to  mock  liis  Maker  on  his 
throne,  and  to  scotf  at  the  God  who  keeps  him  out  of 
hell !  Do  I  address  such  an  one  ?  Let  me  tell  you,  there 
is  neither  wisdom,  nor  wit,  nor  talent  in  this.  It  secures 
the  approbation  of  no  one  whose  good  opinion  is  of  value. 
It  will  secure  not  your  own  approbation  when  you  die. 
It  will  plant  daggers  in  your  dying  pillow.  Let  me  re- 
mind you  that  life  is  not  lengthened  out  by  a  jeer ;  that 
the  shades  of  the  chilly  night  roll  on  towards  you  while 
you  laugh  ;  that  to  ridicule  religion  alleviates  none  of  the 
agonies  of  dying  and  the  terrors  of  the  judgment  seat,  and 
that  the  flames  of  hell  are  not  made  a  thing  of  nought  by 
a  jibe.  Let  me  tell  you,  in  the  spirit  of  my  text — that 
serious,  sober,  humble,  prayerful  enquiry  on  the  subject 
of  religion,  will  conduct  to  the  favor  of  God  and  to  hea- 
ven ; — any  other  spirit  leads  down  to  the  dark  shades  of 
eternal  death  !  Do  you  then  say  to  me,  *  Watchman, 
what  of  the  night?  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?'  I 
reply,  the  morning  cometh  to  the  church  redeemed ; — the 
glad  morning  of  deliverance  to  the  afflicted  Christian, 
and  the  morning  of  the  resurrection  and  of  eternal  glory 
to  all  who  bear  the  image  and  the  name  of  the  Son  of 
God  : — and  also  night  cometh  to  the  scoffing  sinner — the 
chilly  night  of  death — the  night  of  wo  eternal  to  all  who 
deride,  despise,  or  neglect  religion.  If  ye  will  enquire 
further,  it  may  be  done.  Even  now  return  to  the  Lord 
with  a  humble,  penitent,  and  believing  heart,  and  he  will 
be  found  of  you  ;  and  to  our  God,  and  he  will  abundantly 
pardon.     Isa.  Iv.  7. 


29* 


SERMON  XXIII. 


THE    HARVEST  PAST. 


Jeremiah  viii.  20.  The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we 
are  not  saved. 

Man  is  placed  upon  the  earth  that  he  may  prepare  for 
eternity.  His  errand  in  this  world  is  not  to  gain  its 
wealth,  to  secure  its  honors,  or  to  taste  its  pleasures. 
He  has  time  enough  to  prepare  well  for  a  boundless 
existence,  but  he  has  none  to  lose ;  he  may  make  each 
hour  send  an  influence  ever  onward  into  the  intermi- 
nable duration  before  him,  but  if  it  is  suffered  to  pass 
by  unimproved  it  cannot  be  recalled ;  he  may  make  the 
whole  of  life  a  probation,  but  he  can  convert  no  part 
of  eternity  into  a  preparation  for  what  is  beyond.  As  a 
season  of  preparation  for  eternity,  life  may  be  regarded 
as  sustaining  the  same  relation  which  spring  and  summer 
do  to  the  harvest.  There  is  a  time  to  plow  and  sow,  and 
there  is  an  appropriate  time  for  the  harvest,  and  if  these 
are  neglected,  a  gloomy  winter  sets  in  when  there  can  be 
no  sowing,  and  when  it  will  be  too  late  to  secure  a  harvest. 
There  are  favorable  seasons  in  life  to  secure  salvation. 
They  are,  one  after  another,  fast  passing  away.  When 
gone  they  cannot  be  recalled  ;  and  the  favorable  influence 
which  might  have  been  secured  to  bear  on  our  future 
being  is  gone  forever.  We  can  no  more  recall  it  than 
the  farmer  can  command  the  sun  of  spring-time  to  rise 
again,  or  the  showers  and  dews  of  summer  to  come  down 
in  the  dreary  winter.  The  opportunity  of  salvation  will 
have  passed  away  forever. 

These  truths  I  wish  now  to  illustrate,  by  employing 
the  text  with  the  same  design  with  which  it  was  first 
used  in  reference  to  the  Jews.  Ther«  teas  a  time  when 
they  might  have  obtained  the  favor  of  God ;  a  time, 
when,  if  they  had  listened  to  his  voice  by  the  prophets, 

342 


THE    HARVEST    PAST.  343 

their  temple,  and  city,  and  nation  might  liave  been  spared. 
But  it  was  now  too  late.  That  time  tiad  passed  away, 
and  could  not  be  recalled.  The  forbearance  of  God  was 
exhausted,  and  their  beautiful  house  of  worship,  their 
city,  and  their  land  were  to  be  given  up  to  destruction. 

In  illustrating  the  subject  before  us,  I  shall  submit  to 
you  a  series  of  propositions  which  will  at  once  command 
your  assent,  and  which,  I  trust,  will  lead  to  the  conclu- 
sion to  which  I  desire  to  conduct  you,  that  no  time  is  to 
be  lost  in  securing  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 

I.  Life  is  made  up  of  a  series  of  probations.  Its 
various  parts  are  favorable  periods  for  affecting  the 
future.  The  present  may  be  so  used  as  to  be  of  advan- 
tage to  us  hereafter.  From  the  present  we  may  send  an 
influence  forward  that  shall  meet  us  in  time  to  come,  and 
that  shall  be  worth  to  us  there  more  than  all  which  it 
cost  us. 

These  various  modes  of  expressing  the  thought  mean 
substantially  the  same  thing,  and  are  repeated  only  that 
there  may  be  no  possibility  of  misunderstanding  the 
import  of  the  proposition.  A  few  illustrations  will  make 
this  general  truth  plain. 

(1.)  Life  is  a  probation  in  regard  to  the  friendship  and 
favor  of  our  fellow- men.  We  do  not  at  once  step  into 
their  confidence  without  a  trial.  There  is  no  original 
presumption  in  regard  to  our  character,  our  learning,  our 
talents,  our  capacity  for  business,  which  will  secure  us 
the  confidence  of  others  without  trial.  There  may  be  no 
presumption  against  us  except  that  which  always  exists 
in  relation  to  the  depraved  tendencies  of  a  fallen  nature, 
but  there  is  none  in  our  favor  which  can  be  used  as 
capital  with  which  to  claim  their  confidence.  Even 
when  there  are  all  the  advantages  of  birth,  and  blood  ; 
of  hereditary  honor,  patriotism,  or  talent,  the  world 
demands  of  us  evidence  that  we  are  worthy  of  its  confi- 
dence before  that  confidence  is  bestowed.  The  favors 
which  it  has  to  confer,  are  reserved  for  those  who  shall 
evince  in  suitable  circumstances  that  they  are  worthy  of 
the  trust,  and  that  they  have  endowments  which  will  fit 
them  for  the  performance  of  the  duties  to  be  discharged. 
It  is  in  this  way  only  that  we  can  secure  a  reputation  for 
commercial  integrity  or  professional  ability  ;  that  we  can 


344  PRACTICAL  SERMONS. 

gain  an  office  in  the  state  that  may  be  of  value  to  us,  or 
the  friendship  of  the  wise  and  good  ;  or  that  we  can  lay 
the  foundation  for  lasting  usefulness  or  fame.  Many  a 
man  thus  toils  through  a  long  and  weary  life  to  secure  by 
his  good  conduct  something  which  his  fellow-men  have 
to  bestow  in  the  shape  of  honor  or  office,  content  at  last, 
if  even  when  gray  hairs  are  thick  upon  him,  he  may 
lay  his  hand  on  the  prize  which  has  glittered  before  him 
in  all  the  journey  of  life. 

(2.)  Especially  is  this  true  of  the  young.  Of  no  young 
man  is  it  presumed  that  he  is  qualified  for  office,  or  busi- 
ness, or  friendship,  until  he  has  given  evidence  of  such 
qualification.  I  have  found  in  my  own  experience,  and 
as  far  as  my  observation  has  extended,  have  seen  that 
the  world  is  kindly  disposed  toward  young  men,  and 
that  there  are  no  interests  so  dear  that  men  are  not  will- 
ing to  commit  them  to  their  hands  when  they  are  satisfied 
that  they  are  qualified  to  defend  them,  and  to  transmit 
them  to  future  times.  All  the  blood-bought  blessings  of 
Uberty ;  all  the  endowments  of  colleges  and  schools  ;  all 
the  offices  of  the  state,  and  all  the  interests  of  religion  and 
benevolence,  they  are  willing  to  entrust  to  the  young  as 
soon  as  they  have  evidence  that  those  interests  will  be 
safe  in  their  hands ;  and  then,  those  who  have  bled,  and 
toiled,  and  labored  hardest  for  these  things,  and  who 
have  prized  them  most,  will  lie  calmly  down  and  die  ! 
But  they  demand  evidence  that  the  young  are  qualified 
for  the  trust  before  it  is  committed  to  their  hands ;  nor 
will  the  chairs  of  the  presidents  and  professors  in  our 
seminaries  of  learning ;  nor  the  seats  of  senators  or 
judges ;  nor  the  pulpits  or  the  executive  offices  of  the 
land,  be  confided  to  the  young  until  by  their  lives  they 
have  convinced  those  who  hold  them  at  their  disposal 
that  they  are  worthy  of  the  great  and  momentous  trust. 

(3.)  The  study  of  a  profession,  or  apprenticeship,  is 
such  a  probation.  It  is  just  a  trial  to  determine  whether 
the  young  man  will  be  worthy  of  tlie  confidence  which  he 
desires,  and  it  will  decide  the  amount  of  honor  or  success 
which  the  world  will  give  him.  The  world  is  keen-eyed 
in  regard  to  this ;  much  more  so  than  most  young  men 
are  aware.  There  is  an  eye  of  public  vigilance  on  every 
young  man  from  which  he  cannot  escape.     The  world 


THE    HARVEST  PAST.  345 

watches  his  movements;  learns  his  character  ;  marks  his 
defects ;  records  and  remembers  his  virtues.  There  is  an 
arrangement  in  the  course  of  events  that  will  determine 
his  future  life  in  accordance  with  the  character  which  he 
has  formed,  and  from  which  he  cannot  escape.  There  is 
an  unseen,  but  withering  influence  that  attends  a  young 
man  that  is  idle,  dissipated,  or  unprincipled,  that  will  go 
with  him,  like  an  evil  genius,  to  distant  climes;  that  will 
cross  oceans  with  him,  and  start  up  to  meet  him  in  polar 
snows  or  on  barren  sands;  that  will  stand  in  his  way  every 
where,  and  that  he  cannot  escape.  And  there  is  a  happy 
influence,  of  more  value  than  the  fabled  genius  of  So- 
crates, whicli  will  go  with  every  young  man,  who,  by 
industry  and  early  virtue,  has  shown  himself  v/orthy  the 
confidence  of  mankind,  and  which  will  attend  him  around 
the  world. 

(4.)  The  whole  of  this  probation  for  the  future  often 
depends  on  some  single  action  that  shall  determine  the 
character,  and  that  shall  send  an  influence  ever  onward. 
Every  thing  seems  to  be  concentrated  on  a  single  point. 
A  right  or  a  wrong  decision  then  settles  every  thinar.  The 
moment  when  in  the  battle  at  Waterloo,  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington could  say,  "  This  will  do,"  decided  the  fate  of  the 
battle,  and  of  kingdoms.  A  wrong  movement  just  at  that 
point  might  have  changed  the  condition  of  the  world  for 
centuries.  In  every  man's  life  there  are  such  periods;  and 
probably  in  the  lives  of  most  men  their  future  course  is 
more  certainly  determined  by  one  such  far-reaching  and 
central  decision,  than  by  many  actions  in  other  circum- 
stances. They  are  those  moments  when  honor,  wealth, 
usefulness,  health,  and  salvation  seem  all  to  depend  on  a 
single  resolution.  It  seems  to  be  a  small  matter  for  a 
young  man  to  deliberate  whether  he  shall-  or  shall  not 
partake  of  a  social  glass  of  intoxicating  drink  with  a 
friend  ;  and  yet  on  the  result  of  such  a  deliberation  has 
depended  the  whole  career  of  many  a  man.  So  it  may 
seem  a  small  matter  for  him  to  visit  a  gambling-room, 
or  a  theatre  once ;  or  to  form  a  friendship  with  some 
well-hitroduced  and  genteel  looking  stranger;  and  yet 
the  whole  of  his  future  destiny  may  depend  on  the 
decision  of  that  moment.  The  reason  is  this.  It  is  the 
crisis  of  the  life.     It  settles  a  principle.     It  determines 


346  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

whether  he  will  listen  to  the  voice  of  reason  and  con- 
science ;  to  parental  counsel  and  to  God,  or  whether  he 
is  to  be  under  the  control  of  passion  and  appetite.  Every- 
thing is  concentrated  on  that  point — like  one  of  Napo- 
leon's movements  at  the  bridge  of  Lodi,  or  at  Austerlitz. 
If  that  one  point  is  carried,  the  whole  field  may  soon  be 
won.  In  the  decision  which  a  young  man  often  makes 
at  that  point,  there  is  such  a  breach  made  on  his  virtuous 
principles  ;  there  is  such  an  array  of  temptations  pouring 
into  the  breach — like  an  army  pouring  into  a  city  when 
a  breach  is  made  in  a  wall — that  henceforward  there  is 
almost  no  resistance,  and  the  citadel  is  taken.  Of  all 
those  Avho  have  become  the  victims  of  intemperance,  it 
would  be  found,  probably,  that  the  mischief  was  done  at 
some  such  decisive  moment  in  their  lives ;  and  of  those 
who  have  lived  honored  and  useful  lives,  it  might  also  be 
found  that  their  whole  career  was  determined  by  some 
single  act  of  decided  resistance  to  temptation. 

11.  My  second  general  remark  is,  that  when  a  time  of 
probation  is  passed,  it  cannot  be  recalled.  If  it  has  been 
improved  aright,  the  advantages  which  it  conferred  in 
shaping  the  future  life,  will  abide ;  if  it  has  been  misim- 
proved  or  abused,  it  will  be  too  late  to  repair  the  evil.  At 
no  subsequent  period  can  the  advantages  be  secured 
which  might  have  been  secured  then.  This  principle  is 
so  plain  that  it  will  be  admitted  to  be  true  without  an  at- 
tempt to  prove  it.  An  ilhistration  or  two  will  prepare  us 
for  the  use  which  I  intend  to  make  of  it. 

A  young  man  is  fitting  for  a  profession,  or  for  com- 
mercial life.  If  he  suff'ers  the  time  usually  allotted  to 
such  a  preparation  to  pass  away  in  idleness  or  vice,  it 
will  soon  be  too  late  to  recall  his  neglected  or  wasted  op- 
portunities. There  are  advantages  in  preparing  for  a 
profession  in  youth,  which  cannot  be  secured  at  a  subse- 
quent period  of  life.  A  young  man  is  professedly  ac- 
quiring an  education.  If  he  suffers  the  time  of  youth  to 
be  spent  in  indolence,  the  period  will  soon  arrive  when 
it  will  be  too  late  for  him  to  repair  the  evil.  In  the  ac- 
quisition of  languages ;  in  the  formation  of  industrious 
habits;  in  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with  past  event:?, 
he  has  opportunities  then  which  can  be  secured  at  Jio 
other  time  of  life.     At  no  future  period  can  he  do  what 


THE    HARVEST    PAST.  347 

he  was  fitted  to  do  then,  and  what  ought  to  have  been 
done  then.  Whatever  opportunities  there  were  then  to 
prepare  for  the  future,  are  now  lost,  and  it  is  too  late  to 
recall  them.  The  period  has  passed  away,  and  all  that 
follows  must  be  unavailing  regret.  We  cannot  roll  the 
wheels  of  time  backward.  We  cannot  return  and  travel 
over  the  journey  anew.  We  cannot  place  ourselves  in 
the  past  where  we  now  see  that  we  missed  the  way,  and 
direct  our  steps  in  tlie  right  path.  Seldom  does  a  man  find 
gray  hairs  admonishing  him  that  life  is  soon  to  end,  with- 
out having  occasion  to  recall  many  such  neglected  oppor- 
tunities ;  many  abused  privileges ;  much  wasted  time  and 
talent,  and  no  small  part  of  the  lives  of  old  men  is  filled 
with  regrets  at  the  remembrance  of  such  abused  mercies. 
It  may  seem  like  a  digression  from  my  main  design, 
but  I  cannot  here  withhold  a  remark  on  the  amount  of 
abused  and  wasted  talent  every  where  in  the  world.  I 
advert  to  it  to  call  the  attention  of  the  young  to  what 
they  may  soon  have  occasion  to  regret  with  tears.  It  is 
the  fact  that  so  much  time  is  squandered,  and  so  many 
opportunities  neglected,  where  a  happy  influence  might 
be  sent  forward  to  future  years,  but  where  preparations 
are  now  making  only  for  a  harvest  of  woes.  '•  What  a 
fool  you  are,  Paley,"  said  a  young  man  in  a  British 
university,  "  to  be  wasting  your  time  in  idleness  and  dis- 
sipation. You  have  talents  which  might  raise  you  to 
eminence.  I  have  none ;  and  it  is  of  no  consequence 
how  I  act."  Paley  took  the  hint,  though  roughly  made, 
and  rose  like  a  clear  light,  and  shed  a  lustre  on  the  age 
and  the  literature  of  his  nation,  and  England  boasts  no 
son  of  greater  acuteness,  perhaps  none  of  wider  influence 
than  he.  Let  any  one  with  the  recollections  of  his  own 
wasted  hours,  and  with  any  just  views  of  the  value  of 
time,  look  over  this  or  any  other  city  or  land,  and  he  can- 
not do  it  but  with  emotions  of  unutterable  sorrow.  In  all 
our  cities,  towns,  and  villages;  in  even  our  colleges  and 
schools,  there  is  talent  that  is  now  buried,  ruined,  wasted : 
that  is  now,  and  that  is  to  be  in  this  world  and  the  next 
a  blighting  and  a  curse,  that  might  adorn  the  bar,  the 
senate,  or  the  pulpit ;  that  might  resist  with  success  the 
evils  of  profligacy  and  infidelity,  and  that  might  bear 
every  blessing  of  science  and  civilization  around  the 


348  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

globe.  From  those  lips  which  now  give  utterance  to 
horrid  blasphemy,  the  gospel  "  in  strains  as  sweet  as  an- 
gels use/'  might  "  whisper  peace ;"  and  those  frames 
now  hastening  to  the  dishonored  grave  of  the  drunkard, 
might  endure  the  cold  of  northern  climes,  or  the  heat  of 
Arabian  deserts,  in  diffusing  the  blessings  of  civilization 
and  Christianity;  and  those  hands  that  will  soon  tremble 
as  if  palsied  by  age  under  the  influence  of  intoxicating 
drinks,  might  make  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place 
glad,  and  the  desert  blossom  as  the  rose.  All  that  we 
would  ask  to  secure  the  conversion  of  this  whole  world 
to  virtue,  would  be  merely  the  talent  that  is  now  prepar- 
ing to  be  a  blighting  and  a  curse.  Soon  to  that  mass  of 
expanding  youthful  intellect  the  opportunity  of  preparing 
for  future  usefulness  will  have  passed  away  ;  and  it  will 
be  too  late  to  prepare  to  accomplish  any  thing  for  the 
welfare  of  mankind.  I  need  not  pause  here  to  remark  on 
the  painful  emotions  which  visit  the  bosom  in  the  few 
cases  of  those  who  are  reformed  after  a  wasted  and  dissi- 
pated youth.  Cases  of  such  reformation  50?7^e/^??^e.9  occur. 
A  man  after  the  errors  and  follies  of  a  dissipated  early 
life ;  after  he  has  wasted  the  opportunities  which  he  had 
to  obtain  an  education ;  after  all  the  abused  care  and 
anxiety  of  a  parent  to  prepare  him  for  future  usefulness 
and  happiness,  sometimes  is  aroused  to  see  the  error  and 
folly  of  his  course.  What  would  he  not  give  to  be  able 
to  retrace  that  course,  and  to  live  over  again  that  abused 
and  wasted  life  !  But  it  is  too  late.  The  die  is  cast  for 
this  life — whatever  may  be  the  case  in  regard  to  the  life 
to  come. 

III.  The  general  propositions  which  I  have  endeavored 
to  illustrate,  are  true  in  a  much  more  important  sense  in 
regard  to  religion.  The  proposition,  as  applicable  to  reli- 
gion, is,  that  there  are  favorable  seasons  for  securing  the 
salvation  of  the  soul,  which  if  suffered  to  pass  away 
imimproved,  cannot  be  recalled.  There  are  times  in  the 
life  of  each  individual  which  may  be  regarded  as  the 
"summer,"  or  the  "harvest,"  in  reference  to  salvation; 
and  which,  if  suffered  to  pass  away  unimproved,  will 
leave  the  mind  to  unavailing  regret  that  it  is  now  too  late. 
The  grand  purpose,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  for  which 
God  has  placed  us  on  earth,  is  to  prepare  for  what  is  be- 


THE    HARVEST    PAST.  349 

yond  the  grave.  It  is  not  to  obtain  wealth,  or  to  acquire 
honor,  or  to  enjoy  pleasure  here ;  it  is  to  prepare  for  the 
world  beyond.  This  could  be  easily  shown  did  my  sub- 
ject call  for  it,  or  were  it  a  proposition  that  would  be  likely 
to  be  disputed.  One  consideration  is  enough  now.  It  is, 
that  all  the  honors,  and  wealth,  and  learning,  and  worldly 
happiness  which  man  can  gain,  are  wholly  dispropor- 
tionate to  the  vast  powers  with  which  God  has  endowed 
us.  They  leave  a  "void,"  an  impression  which  we  can 
never  get  rid  of,  that  we  were  made  for  a  higher  and  nobler 
purpose.  It  would  be  unlike  God  to  create  such  vast  powers 
for  so  unworthy  ends  ;  and  men  must,  and  will,  and  should 
look  forward  to  the  retributions  of  another  state.  On  the 
same  principle,  therefore,  on  which  he  has  made  future 
character  and  happiness  in  this  life  dependent  on  our  con- 
duct in  those  seasons  which  are  times  of  probation,  has  he 
made  all  the  eternity  of  our  existence  dependent  on  the 
conduct  of  life  regarded  as  a  season  of  probation.  And  on 
the  same  principle  on  which  he  has  appointed  favorable 
seasons  for  sowing  and  reaping,  he  has  appointed  favor- 
able seasons  to  secure  our  salvation.  For  it  is  no  more  to 
be  presumed  of  any  man  without  trial  that  he  is  prepared 
for  heaven,  than  it  is  that  a  young  man  will  be  a  good 
merchant,  lawyer,  or  physician,  without  trial. 

There  are  periods,  therefore,  which  God  has  appointed 
as  favorable  seasons  for  salvation ;  times  when  there  are 
peculiar  advantages  for  securing  religion,  and  which  will 
not  occur  again.  There  are  advantages  in  regard  to  sal- 
vation at  those  periods  of  life  which  can  be  found  at  no 
other  period  ;  seasons  of  favorable  influence  v^^hich  may 
be  called  the  "  summer,"  and  the  "  harvest  time,"  for  be- 
coming Christians,  which  can  be  secured  at  no  other  pe- 
riod of  life.  If  the  advantages  of  such  seasons  be  sufl'ered 
to  pass  away  unimproved,  they  cannot  be  recalled,  nor 
can  they  be  secured  at  any  other  period,  any  more  than 
the  youth  who  has  been  idle  while  he  should  have  been 
preparing  for  future  life,  can  ever  find  the  same  advan- 
tages again.  Let  us,  at  this  stage  of  our  remarks,  look  at 
some  of  those  seasons. 

Foremost  among  them  is  youth — the  most  favorable 
time  always  for  becoming  a  Christian.  Then  the  heart 
is  tender,  and  the  conscience  is  easily  impressed,  and  the 

30 


350  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

mind  is  more  free  from  cares  than  at  a  future  period,  and 
there  is  less  difhcultv  in  breaking  away  from  the  world, 
and  usually  less  dread  of  the  ridicule  of  others.  Then 
numerous  promises  in  the  Bible  meet  us,  assuring  us  that 
God  loves  those  that  love  him,  and  that  they  who  seek 
him  early  shall  find  him.  No  peculiar  promise  is  made 
to  man  in  middle  life,  or  m  old  age.  The  time  of  youth 
compared  with  old  age  has  about  the  same  relation  to 
salvation,  which  spring-time  and  summer  compared  with 
winter,  have  with  reference  to  a  harvest.  The  chills  and 
frosts  of  age  are  about  as  mifavorable  to  conversion  to 
God  as  the  frosts  and  snows  of  December  are  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  earth.  He  who  suffers  the  time  of  youth 
to  pass  by  intending  to  become  a  Christian  when  he  is 
old,  is  acting  in  about  the  same  way  in  which  he  would 
act,  who  should  suffer  the  genial  suns  of  April,  and  May, 
and  June  to  pass  by,  and  should  intend  to  strike  his  plough 
in  the  soil  when  stern  winter  throws  his  icy  chains  over 
streams  and  fields,  and  when  the  whole  earth  has  become 
like  a  hard  rock.  The  great  mass  of  those  who  are  saved, 
are  converted  in  early  life ;  and  when  that  season  passes 
away,  it  is  like  the  passing  away  of  spring  and  summer 
in  reference  to  the  harvest.  At  no  future  period  of  life 
can  you  find  the  same  advantages  for  becoming  a  Chris- 
tian. You  may  live  many  years ;  and  in  future  life  I  do 
not  deny  that  you  may  find  some  advantages  for  becom- 
ing religious,  and  I  do  not  deny  that  you  may  then  become 
a  Christian.  But  whatever  there  was  in  that  season  that 
was  peculiarly  favorable  will  return  no  more,  and  can  be 
found  no  where  else.  And  when  you  have  stepped  over 
the  limits  of  youth  unconverted,  you  have  gone  beyond 
the  most  favorable  time  you  can  ever  have  for  preparins: 
for  heaven.  But  suppose  that  youth  is  to  be  all  of  your 
life,  and  you  were  to  die  before  you  reached  middle  life, 
what  then  wUl  be  your  doom  .^ 

A  season  when  your  mind  is  awakened  to  the  subject 
of  religion,  is  such  a  favorable  time  for  salvation.  All 
persons  experience  such  seasons ;  times  when  there  is  an 
unusual  unpression  of  the  vanity  of  the  world,  of  the 
evil  of  sin,  of  the  need  of  a  Savioiu*,  and  of  the  import- 
ance of  being  prepared  for  heaven.  These  are  times  of 
mercy,  when  God  is  speaking  to  the  soul.     All  men,  I 


THE    HARVEST    PAST.  351 

say,  experience  them.  They  do  not  occur,  indeed,  often 
in  poHtical  excitements  ;  in  the  pressure  of  business  ;  in  the 
struggles  of  ambition  ;  or  amidst  the  dense  throng  that  is 
crowding  on  for  gain  or  honor.  But  they  occur  when 
those  stormy  scenes  are  hilled  to  repose,  or  in  the  inter- 
vals when  the  mind  is  turned  away  from  them  ;  in  the 
evening,  when  weary  and  sad,  you  come  home  to  the 
quiet  of  the  family ;  in  the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath,  when 
the  thoughts  are  turned  to  the  world  of  rest ;  in  the  sanc- 
tuary, when  the  words  of  the  gospel  drop  like  the  rain, 
and  distil  like  the  dew  ;  in  the  moments  of  calm  retro- 
spection, when  a  man  sits  down  to  think  over  the  past, 
and  when  he  cannot  but  think  of  the  life  to  come  ;  on  the 
bed  of  sickness,  when  he  is  shut  out  from  the  world,  and 
in  those  moments  when  he  thinks,  he  scarcely  knows 
why,  of  the  grave,  of  judgment,  of  eternity.  Those  are 
*  summer'  suns  in  regard  to  salvation.  Compared  with 
the  agitations  and  strifes  of  public  life,  they  are  with  re- 
ference to  salvation  what  gentle  summer  suns  are  to  the 
husbandman,  compared  with  the  storm  and  tempest 
when  the  lightnings  flash,  and  the  hail  beats  down  the 
harvest  which  he  had  hoped  to  reap.  And  the  farmer 
may  as  well  expect  to  till  his  soil,  and  sow  and  reap  his 
harvest,  when  the  black  cloud  rolls  up  the  sky,  and  the 
pelting  storm  drives  on,  as  a  man  expect  to  prepare 
for  heaven  in  the  din  of  business,  in  political  conflicts, 
and  in  the  struggles  of  gain  and  ambition.  But  all — all 
that  is  favorable  for  salvation,  in  such  serious  moments, 
will  soon  pass  away,  and  when  gone  they  cannot  be  re- 
called. They  are  favorable  moments,  sent  by  a  merciful 
God,  to  recall  you  from  the  world,  and  to  prepare  you 
for  heaven.  Improved,  they  are  like  the  summer  sun  in 
reference  to  the  harvest.  Lost,  or  neglected,  they  are  like 
the  passing  away  of  spring,  when  not  a  furrow  has  been 
turned,  or  a  seed  sown. 

A  revival  of  religion,  in  like  manner,  is  a  favorable 
time  for  securing  salvation.  There  are  influences  on  your 
heart  when  others  are  pressing  into  the  kingdom,  which 
exist  at  no  other  period  of  your  hfe.  It  is  a  time  when 
there  is  all  the  power  of  the  appeal  from  sympathy ;  all 
the  force  of  the  fact  that  your  companions  and  friends 
are  leaving  you  for  heaven  ;  when  the  strong  ties  of  love 


352  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

for  them  draw  your  mind  towards  religion ;  when  all  the 
confidence  which  you  had  in  them  becomes  an  argument 
for  religion ;  and  when,  most  of  all,  the  Holy  Spirit 
makes  your  heart  tender,  and  speaks  with  any  unusual 
power  to  the  soul.  But  such  a  time,  with  all  its  advan- 
tages, usually  soon  passes  away ;  and  those  advantages 
for  salvation  you  cannot  again  create,  or  recall — any  more 
than  you  can  call  up  the  bloom  of  spring  in  the  snows  of 
December. 

I  might,  were  there  time,  go  on  to  say,  that  there  are 
advantages  for  becoming  a  Christian  when  on  a  bed  of 
sickness ;  or  when  in  a  pious  family ;  or  when  you  fall 
in  with  a  pious  stranger ;  or  when  you  are  sitting  iu  the 
sanctuary;  or  when  some  truth  powerfully  arrests  your 
attention.  All  these,  and  all  kindred  seasons,  are  the 
"  summer"  and  the  "  harvest"  of  salvation  ;  and  all  con- 
stitute a  part  of  our  probation  with  reference  to  the  world 
to  come.  What  advantages  a  youth  has  for  becoming  a 
Christian,  who  has  a  pious  father  and  mother ;  for  whom 
prayer  is  daily  offered  at  the  family  altar,  and  for  whom 
a  parent  feels  the  deepest  solicitude  that  he  should  be 
saved  !  What  advantage  a  young  person  has  in  the  Sab- 
bath-school for  becoming  a  Christian,  whose  teacher  seeks 
to  guide  him  in  the  paths  of  salvation  ! — They  are  "  sum- 
mer" suns  in  regard  to  eternal  life,  and  they  furnish 
advantages  which  can  no  where  else  be  found. 

But  all  these  will  soon,  0,  how  soon,  be  gone.  Life 
will  soon  be  all  travelled  over.  Not  one  of  these  advan- 
tages can  be  recalled.  Gone  will  be  every  Sabbath ;  gone 
every  season  of  instruction  hi  the  family  and  the  Sabbath- 
school.  You  will  soon  have  listened  to  the  last  sermon, 
and  the  last  admonition  of  a  friend.  You  will  soon  have 
passed  through  the  season  of  youth,  and  then  of  middle 
life,  and  then  of  decrepid  age.  You  will  soon  have  felt 
the  last  strivings  of  the  Spirit,  and  witnessed  the  last 
revival  of  religion.  You  will  soon  have  seen  the  com- 
munion administered  for  the  last  time,  and  heard  your 
pastor  offer  the  last  prayer  for  your  salvation.  Every 
favorable  circumstance  for  preparing  for  heaven  in  youth  ; 
in  the  Sabbath-school ;  in  the  sanctuary ;  in  your  own 
feelings,  and  in  the  efforts  of  your  friends,  will  soon  have 
passed  away ;  and  not  all  the  gold  of  Ophir  could  buy 


THE    HARVEST    PAST.  353 

their  return,  even  for  a  moment.  The  "  harvest  will 
have  passed,  and  the  summer  ended" — whether  you  are, 
or  are  not  saved. 

Could  man  retrace  his  steps,  and  repair  his  follies,  life 
would  be  a  different  thing.  But  the  journey  of  life  is 
like  that  of  a  man  who  is  passing  through  a  land  full  of 
diamonds  and  gold,  to  be  traversed  but  once — and  where 
they  diminish  hi  beauty,  in  number,  and  in  value,  every 
step  he  takes.  What  if  he  should  pass  all  over  that 
journey  and  not  have  gathered  a  diamond  or  a  particle 
of  gold — amused  by  the  warbling  of  birds,  or  led  by 
some  *  Jack  o'  lantern'  that  danced  along  his  path? 
Thus  travels  man  over  the  journey  of  hfe,  charmed  by 
some  trifle  that  turns  off  the  mind  from  its  great  object, 
until  life  is  ended,  the  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is 
ended,  and  the  soul  is  not  saved.  The  harp,  the  song 
and  the  dance  allured  the  youth ;  business  and  ambition 
controlled  the  man ;  the  love  of  honor  and  of  gain  drove 
away  every  serious  thought;  the  Sabbath  came  and 
went ;  years  rolled  on,  and  he  has  come  to  the  end  of  the 
busy,  the  gay,  the  unsatisfactory  journey,  and  it  is  now 
too  late,  and  he  dies  without  hope.  Every  favorable 
influence  for  salvation  has  been  neglected  or  abused ; 
and  he  goes  up  the  untrodden  way  to  God,  saying  '  the 
harvest  is  passed,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  I  am  not 
saved.' 

IV.  The  unpardoned  sinner  dies.  Let  us,  in  conclu- 
sion, look  a  moment  at  the  various  classes  who  will  utter 
this  unavailing  lamentation,  and  the  reflections  of  the  soul, 
as  it  goes  unforgiven  up  to  God. 

Such  words  will  be  uttered  by  the  aged  man  who  has 
sufl'ered  his  long  life  to  pass  away  without  preparation  to 
meet  his  Judge.  He  has  seen  many  days.  He  has  spent 
a  long,  and  perhaps  a  pleasant  "summer"  of  life.  He 
may  have  risen  high  in  wealth  and  honor.  He  may  have 
been  entrusted  with  important  oflices,  and  have  been 
eminent  for  talent.  He  may  have  gained  all  that  he 
hoped  when  he  began  life,  and  all  that  this  world  can  fur- 
nish to  its  votaries.  He  may  have  been  favored  with  all 
the  means  of  grace  ;  nay,  he  may  have  been  not  an  inat- 
tentive hearer  of  the  gospel.  But  his  long  life  is  closing. 
His  summer  is  ended,  and  he  is  not  saved.     With  all 

30* 


354  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

that  he  has  gained,  he  has  failed  to  acquire  the  one  thing 
which  alone  now  would  be  useful  to  him.  He  has  lived 
to  slight  the  otiers  of  mercy  from  year  to  year,  and  now 
as  he  goes  to  eternity  he  can  only  take  up  the  lamenta- 
tion, "  the  harvest  is  passed,  and  I  am  not  saved." 

The  language  of  the  text  will  be  uttered  at  last  by 
the  man  who  often  resolved  to  attend  to  the  subject  of 
religion,  but  who  deferred  it  until  it  was  too  late.  He 
was  a  professed  believer  in  the  truth  of  religion,  and  he 
intended  to  be  a  Christian.  He  read  much,  and  thought 
much,  and  often  resolved  to  defer  it  but  little  longer.  At 
twenty,  at  thirty,  at  forty,  at  fifty  years  of  life  he  resolved 
that  if  he  lived  a  little  longer  he  would  become  a  Christian. 
When  a  youth  he  resolved  that  he  would  attend  to  it, 
should  he  become  settled  in  life.  He  became  settled,  but 
was  burdened  with  unexpected  cares,  and  resolved  then 
to  seek  religion  at  some  future  period.  At  one  time  he 
resolved  that  he  would  be  a  Christian  should  he  be 
afflicted.  God  laid  him  on  a  bed  of  pain,  and  he  found 
then,  what  he  had  often  been  told  in  vain,  that  a  sick- 
bed was  a  poor  place  to  prepare  to  die ;  and  then  he 
promised  in  solemn  covenant  with  God  that  if  he  were 
spared  he  would  lead  a  different  life.  He  was  restored, 
and  as  before  forgot  his  promise.  Life  with  him  has 
been  but  little  else  than  a  series  of  unfulfilled  resolutions 
to  be  a  Christian.  Every  resolution  has  failed ;  and  at 
the  end  of  life,  it  remains  only  for  him  to  say,  "  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved." 

These  words  will  be  uttered  by  the  thoughtless  and 
the  gay.  Life  to  them  has  been  a  summer  scene  in  more 
senses  than  one.  It  has  been — or  they  have  tried  to 
make  it  so — ^just  what  a  summer  day  is  to  the  gaudy 
insects  that  you  see  playing  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 
It  has  been  just  as  volatile,  as  frivolous,  as  useless.  In 
regard  to  the  great  purpose  for  which  God  made  them 
immortal,  and  placed  them  in  the  world  when  his  Son 
died  for  sin,  they  have  accomplished  just  as  much  as 
the  insect  does  that  spends  its  little  day  in  playing  in  the 
sun-beams.  At  no  time  could  they  be  persuaded  that 
the  gay  summer  of  fashion  would  pass  away  ;  or  that  the 
chill  November  of  retribution  would  come  at  last;  or 
that  these  glittering  scenes  of  life  must  ever  be  left ;  or 


THE    HARVEST    PAST.  355 

that  they  had  any  more  important  business  in  Uving  than 
could  be  found  in  dress  and  amusement.  But  the  time 
has  come  at  last,  when  all  this  gaiety  and  vanity  is  to  be 
left.  The  beautiful  summer,  that  seemed  so  full  of  flowers 
and  sweet  odors,  passes  away.  The  sun  of  life  hastens  to 
its  setting.  The  circle  of  fashion  has  been  visited  for  the 
last  time  ;  the  theatre  has  been  entered  for  the  last  time  ; 
the  pleasures  of  the  ball-room  have  been  enjoyed  for  the 
last  time  ;  music  has  poured  its  last  notes  on  the  ear,  and 
the  last  silvery  tones  of  flattery  are  dying  away,  and  now 
has  come  the  serious  hour  to  die.  The  gay  summer  is 
ended,  and  as  the  soul  leaves  the  body  these  disregarded 
words  will  come  to  remembrance,  "the  harvest  is  passed, 
the  summer  is  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved." 

Thus  too  it  will  be  with  him  whose  mind  was  often 
serious;  with  him  who  not  seldom  witnessed  a  revival 
of  religion  ;  with  him  who  was  trained  in  a  pious  family, 
and  who  always  meant  to  be  a  Christian  ;  with  him  who 
was  half  convinced,  and  who  began  to  break  ofl"  his  sins; 
with  him  who  was  admonished  by  a  dying  parent  to  be 
prepared  to  meet  him  in  heaven,  and  who  meant  to  be 
thus  prepared  ;  with  all  that  vast  throng  of  all  ages  and 
characters  who  are  placed  on  earth  to  prepare  for  heaven, 
who  miss  the  great  errand  of  their  being,  and  who  come 
to  the  close  of  life  having  really  done  nothing  for  their 
salvation.  Those  opportunities  will  all  soon  be  gone  to 
return  no  more.  That  dying  father  will  speak  to  you  no 
more ;  that  departing  mother  will  entreat  you  no  more  to 
be  prepared  for  heaven  ;  and  at  the  end  of  all,  the  lamen- 
tation will  be, '  the  summer  is  ended,  and  lam  not  saved. ^ 

With  not  a  few  here,  it  is  not  improbable,  life  will  close 
in  this  manner.  When  too  late  you  will  remember  the 
interesting  invitations  of  the  gospel,  and  your  solemn  re- 
solutions. You  will  remember  the  sanctuary,  the  Sabbath, 
the  Sabbath-school  teacher,  the  pastor.  You  will  remem- 
ber the  times  when  you  were  serious,  and  when  you  were 
half  resolved  to  be  a  Christian.  You  will  remember  your 
hfe  of  gaiety,  or  vice  ;  your  days  when  you  sought  plea- 
sure, and  when  for  the  baubles  of  this  life  you  jeoparded 
your  soul's  salvation. 

At  the  close  of  all  you  will  say,  '  It  is  ended,  and  I  am 
not  saved.     I  have  trod  life's  flowery  way,  and  the  jour- 


356  PRACTICAL    SERMONS. 

iiey  is  over,  and  I  am  not  saved.  I  have  visited  the  house 
of  God,  and  been  entreated  to  attend  to  my  soul ;  but  I 
am  now  to  go  there  no  more,  and  I  am  not  saved.  I 
have  cUmbed  the  steeps  of  ambition,  and  I  have  sought  for 
honor,  and  all  that  struggling  is  over,  and  I  am  not  saved. 
I  have  mingled  in  the  gay  circles  of  life,  and  all  that  is 
ended,  and  I  am  not  saved.  I  have  ranged  the  fields  of 
pleasure,  and  trod  along  the  flowery  streams  of  life,  and 
my  rambles  are  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved.  I  have  re- 
solved, and  re-resolved  to  be  a  Christian,  and  all  is  now 
over,  and  I  am  not  saved.  I  have  crossed  oceans,  and 
visited  other  lands,  and  now  am  about  to  embark  on  the 
ocean  of  eternity,  and  visit  an  undiscovered  country  from 
which  I  am  not  to  return,  but  I  am  not  saved.  Closed  is 
the  summer  of  life  ;  ceased  is  the  voice  of  friendly  admo- 
nition ;  gone  are  my  opportunities  of  salvation ;  youth, 
strength,  conviction  for  sin,  the  Sabbath,  the  privileges 
of  the  sanctuary,  all  are  passed  away,  and  I  am  not 
saved.' 

0,  on  how  many  beds  of  death  is  this  language  heard  ! 
0,  how  many  an  unpardoned  spirit  goes  up  to  God,  say- 
ing, '  the  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  I  am 
not  saved  !'  What  are  the  sighings  of  despair  but  the 
lamentation,  *  the  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended, 
and  we  are  not  saved  ?'  Sinner,  the  ^  summer'  is  passing 
away  ;  youth  is  hastening  to  manhood  ;  and  manhood  is 
hastening  to  the  grave.  Sabbaths  are  hastening  away, 
and  privileges  are  hastening  away,  and  soon,  0  how  soon, 
may  your  lips  on  a  dying  bed  take  up  the  lamentation, 
^  the  harvest  is  passed,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  I  am 
not  saved.' 


THE    END. 


rinceton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


0  1012  00009  0823 


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